XMen Forged: New Recruit
by Jason de L'Epee
Summary: X-Men/Dr. Strange: A teenager caught in a devastating accident is discovered to have a unique power, a power that even Dr. Strange is amazed at. Now the X-Men race to protect the boy from others who are after him.
1. Prologue

**X-MEN FORGED: NEW RECRUIT**

By _Jason de L'Epée_

FOREWARD: Yet another brave attempt to write something else outside the realm _of Sonic the Hedgehog_ fanfiction. But hey, since I have a set beginning and ending for my Sonic fanfiction and nothing beyond that, I guess I'll need to refocus my energy to other fanfiction until something else comes up. Anyway, the drive to write this one came from a vignette scene I wrote that would not get out of my head until I wrote it down. It sat on my desk for several days demanding to be told, but I didn't know how to continue the plight. At around the same time, I discovered _X-Men Evolution_, and when I watched the second episode, the muse knocked hard again. This fic was destined to become an X-Men fanfic.

The scary part is that I've never had much exposure to Marvel in my lifetime, so this is a whole new game. Since there are so many universes for the X-Men, I found it impossible to base this fanfiction on just one. Primarily, it sits within the _X-Men Evolution_ universe, with most of the X-Men still in school at Bayville High. However, since I like elements from different universes, I'll pick and choose from there as well. Plus, there's going to be an awful lot of creative license in this fanfic, so forgive me if continuity gets thrown out the window. Oh, Deadpool is so going to pester me about this, I can feel it.

Anyway, enjoy Part 1 of a series of 6: _New Recruit_.

This work is dedicated to those who have lost loved ones in natural disasters, not limited to tornadoes. Particularly, I write this in remembrance of the lives that were lost during the April and May tornado outbreaks that claimed over 400 lives, as I wrote the premise of the story mere days before the onslaught began on April 25th, 2011.

NOTE: Unlike most writers, I will not attempt to write out the effects of dialects within speech. I'll state what dialects they have at first, but after that, it's up to your imaginations. I find writing dialects in the speech too difficult to translate into speech, and meaning is often lost or confused. If the truth is to be known, it is actually considered improper writing, as it tends to lead to a lot of confusion; although it is acceptable in comic book writing and script-writing. There are some that can do it properly, but I'm not able to do that accurately. The exceptions will be foreign words used. For the X-Men, remember that the speech is more or less the same as their _X-Men Evolution_ counterparts. If you haven't watched that series yet, do so; it's on YouTube.

**PROLOGUE:**

* * *

><p>The storm raged through the night as sheets of rain poured down, threatening to drown the plains of rural Oklahoma. While it was only just after sundown on that stormy day of April, the darkness of the storm had already swallowed up the light of the setting sun, and now all was black. Those who would brave Mother Nature's wrath that night were either foolish or brave.<p>

For two men attempting to reach home that night, neither category fit either one; yet both reconciled to reach home that night. This wasn't the worst storm they weathered so they thought. All they could think of was getting back to the little town of Red Rock, so they could be safe and warm in their own home rather than in a hotel back in Enid. It was only an hour's drive, and the storm didn't hit them until they were over half-way home, so they kept going.

A clap of thunder surprised both of them, but the older of the two didn't let it deter him from the road. However, he did express his thoughts. "Wow, it's been a while since I've seen a storm this bad."

"Good thing we're only twenty minutes from home, Dad," the younger said. "I'm not sure I want to be stuck out here this night."

"Well, let me tell you, Jason, if I knew this storm was coming, I might have gotten us a place to sleep back in Enid or Billings. I know some people back there who would be happy to let us bunk for the night."

Jason smiled. "A little late for that now, don't you think? Might as well try to get home now." Jason looked around the window at the sheets of rain, but not really seeing the hellish fury of the weather outside.

The father, Patrick Downs, glanced over at his son and smiled himself. "You know something, son? I'm proud of you."

Jason grinned as if he was trying to keep from laughing. "Yeah, Dad, you said that over and over back in Enid at regionals."

"Hey, let your old man brag about his son once in a while! How many other fathers in Oklahoma have their son win the regionals for best science project?"

"At least five others, I think," Jason said mischievously. "One for every other region."

"Ok, smarty, but just you wait when you go to win state in Oklahoma City next month."

"Come on, Dad, it wasn't that big of a project…"

"Modest as well," Patrick reached over to ruffle Jason's hair. "I'm glad I at least taught you well."

Jason laughed, fighting away his father's strong arm briefly before Patrick got back to driving. "Maybe I could teach you a few lessons myself."

It was Patrick's turn to smile mischievously. "Oh, I'd like to see you try."

Jason laughed a bit, and then looked back at his father. "Thank you, Dad. In the very least, thanks for taking me out to Enid. It was fun."

Patrick smiled. "You know, sometimes I always thought you spent too much time in school, working in labs, but after seeing some of your friends back in Red Rock there, seems like you still find time to at least find some fun. You're still sixteen after all. You deserve some fun."

"As if there's much to do in the grand old town of Red Rock?" Jason teased, but sobered. "But yeah. It's nothing much. We just grab sodas and hang out near the bleachers to watch the Mustangs practice. I thought about taking up a sport once or twice, but never got around to it."

"Well, at least you're good in something," Patrick said. "I remember when math and science were murder for me back in my day."

Jason laughed. "'Back in your day?'"

Patrick's brow sank. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Anything you want, Dad. Anything you want."

"Is that what school is teaching you: how to be a smart-aleck?"

"I think I have the right to tease you once in a while since you brag about me all over town."

Patrick smiled. "Guilty, but at least I have reason. I have an Honor Roll Student as a son, as well as a son with the Regional Science Recognition Award."

"Here we go again."

"Well, I should be proud of a son like that."

"Yeah, I guess. Not bad for being adopted, huh?"

A stunned silence was the only response from Patrick, and Jason soon realized his mistake. "I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean it that way."

"No, it's all right, Jason. I'm just surprised you brought it up. You didn't talk much about it since we told you before last school year."

Jason looked forwards through the drenched windshield, mildly blinking in a barrage of lightning. "I didn't really have anything to say then. I mean, what should have I felt?"

Patrick looked at Jason briefly. "Well, your mother and I were afraid you would be mad at us for not telling you or feeling sad that you weren't a 'real son.' We almost didn't tell you, but I knew you ought to know before you started high school." Patrick smiled. "I must admit, you did surprise us with your response. You were quiet, and accepted it. We were impressed."

Jason shrugged at first. "Well, maybe it's my turn to tell you a little secret."

Patrick looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"If I told you that I already knew before you told me, would you believe me?"

Patrick turned to Jason so hard that he nearly swerved off the road. After straightening out, he had to breathe before answering. "How did you know?"

"Pretty easy. When Beth was born, I noticed she had blue eyes, like you and Mom. I have green eyes. Back in sixth grade in science, the teacher taught us about basic genetics, and told us some genes that were dominant and recessive. Green eyes are a dominant gene, blue eyes are recessive. I asked my teacher about it, and she looked stunned about it." Jason added with a smile. "Kind of like you did just now."

"Oh, laugh it up, son."

Jason sobered up. "When I asked her how that happened, she merely said 'go ask Mom or Dad.' I took the hint." Jason looked down. "To be honest, I was kind of scared that you wouldn't love me anymore after Beth was born. I mean, she was your own kid. I was from somewhere else. Since you now had a kid of your very own, I wondered how I would be treated after that.

"A few days after, Mrs. Glenn, my science teacher, came up to me after class and asked if I had asked my parents yet. I said I didn't; I couldn't because I was scared. I was only twelve then, so I didn't know. She looked at me like she felt sorry for me. She reassured me that you and Mom would love me no matter if I was related or not. It took some convincing, but I felt better about it.

"After that, I just kind of forgot about it. And Mrs. Glenn was right. Just because I'm not really Bethany's brother, or yours or Mom's real son, you still loved me. You didn't send me to some orphanage or somewhere else. You still loved me. And for that, I really thank you, Dad. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Jason hesitated to continue before looking at his father, and what he saw stunned him. His father had tears in his eyes. Suddenly, Patrick's free hand took Jason's firmly. "My dear boy, I don't care what happens to you. I will always love you as my son. Thank you for believing in us."

It was Jason's turn to feel tears' sting in his eyes, choking his throat. He could only nod.

Patrick sniffed a bit before answering. "You know, your Mom and I always wanted to have kids of our own, but she could never conceive. We wanted someone to raise as our own, but somebody had different plans, I suppose. However, we decided to look for a different way to get a son. A pastor back home talked to us about adopting. It sounded like a good idea at the time, so we went through the process. It took a very long time, a very trying time for us, but we were approved, and we found you to adopt soon after."

"I'm glad you did, Dad. I couldn't have asked for a better Dad or Mom," Jason said, looking out into the storm, noting with some mild concern that the winds were picking up.

"To be honest, when your mother became pregnant with little Bethany, it took us for a surprise. I remember how excited you were when you thought you were going to have a brother."

"Oh, now it's my turn to say 'laugh it up.'"

"Let's say we're even."

"Deal."

As Jason looked back outside again, Patrick looked over at his son as if pondering to ask him a question. For a few seconds, he carefully considered his words. Finally, he asked, "Do you ever wonder who your real Mom or Dad were?"

Jason was pulled back from the violence outside with this simple question. He didn't answer right away, but he finally replied, "I don't even remember my 'mother'. I don't even know if she had brown or blond hair. I don't even know if my Dad stayed with her, or had abandoned her and me. I just don't know."

"Well, don't worry about it. I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm sorry," Patrick replied.

Jason squeezed his father's hand. "It's okay. I kind of figured you would ask that anyway."

A flash of lightning pierced the sky followed immediately by a clap of thunder shook the car that both felt it in their seats. Jason replied first. "Good grief; that was a close one."

Even Patrick was rattled. "I know."

Jason looked out as the wind seemed to have gotten stronger. "This storm has gotten really bad. Look at the rain. It's practically horizontal now."

"Son, turn on the radio and see if you can find the weather."

Jason obeyed wordlessly. He reached for the knobs for the radio, and listened in as he searched for the weather. Pressing SCAN, he flipped out his cell phone. "I'll try to call home and see if Mom knows anything."

"Good idea." Patrick focused on driving, trying to see through the rain while slowing down in face of the wind.

Jason whipped out his cellphone and checked the screen. "Damn it! No service."

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised; there aren't many cell towers out here."

Almost on cue, the radio made a peculiar buzzing, before a long beep. After the beep finished, an automated voice reported, "The National Weather Service in Oklahoma City has issued a tornado warning for the following counties: Logan. Payne. Noble. The tornado warning has been issued until 8:15 PM central daylight time. At 7:23 PM, Doppler radar had detected a severe thunderstorm capable of producing golf-ball-sized hail, high winds and tornadoes. Storm spotters have spotted a tornado on the ground north of Perry Municipal Airport, heading north-northeast at around twenty miles per hour."

"Perry Municipal? That's only a mile south of us!" Jason said, as the radio pelted out the warning to get to shelter.

"We'd better get out of the car and get to a ditch. Hopefully we can find a culvert to squat down in. When we get out of the car, duck down and run to the ditch on the north side. You got me, son?"

"Yes, Dad." Jason nodded.

Dad parked the car on the shoulder, and threw open the door on his side. As he stepped out, he was met with fierce wind and stinging rain. He covered his face as he struggled to get out of the car. Jason tried to open the door on his side, but the wind was forcing it shut. "Dad, the door is stuck!"

"Get out on this side. Crawl over! Hurry!"

Jason unbuckled his seatbelt and started climbing over the seat. The car wasn't very large, and it was a tight fit to get through. Patrick reached in to get Jason's hand to speed him up. As Jason climbed over, he became aware of a strange loud sound, as if there was a freight train bearing down on them. Patrick looked around. He was hearing it too.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a tree ripped from the ground smashed into the car in the front. Before both could react, the car lurched sideways, causing Patrick to fall back inside. Jason pulled him inside by sheer instinct as his ears began popping. Suddenly, the car was thrown up from the ground into a tumble. Jason held on to his father tightly as the car slammed into the earth violently. Again and again the fearsome wind picked it up and smashed it down again. Jason felt a blow to the side of his head, and the world became darkness to him.

XXXXXXXXXX

Jason struggled to open his eyes. Every time he tried, a sick wave of nausea hit him in the gut. He felt numb on one side of his body, as something hot and sticky clung to the right side of his face. The rain, now gentle and serene, was pouring down upon him. The world was still dark, but he could see blurs. His vision started sharpening, but with it came pain to his head. He felt like his head took a hit from a pile driver. He struggled to sit up, wincing as a pain in his side nearly doubled him over. Struggling to breathe, he looked around. "Wha…where am I?"

As he tried to recover his bearings, he soon found that he was sitting on the edge of a road. He held his head with his right hand as he kept himself up with his left. At once he felt something warm, wet and sticky. He pulled his hand away and found it drenched in blood, coming from an immense gash on his face that narrowly missed his temple. He quickly found other injuries: asphalt burns, other cuts and gashes and his right arm felt wrong. Maybe it was broken.

Flashes of his memory blasted through his brain, attempting to piece together what happened. Gasping from pain, he breathed, "I remember. I was in the car..." At the thought of the car, his eyes bulged open under the swelling of his wounds. He struggled to get to his feet, but a lancing pain in his right side nearly threw him back down. Jason coughed and groaned. "I must have broke a rib or two." He looked around in the rain. "Dad!?"

There was no answer. He looked around some more. "Dad!?" Still no answer. He looked around some more, and then he spotted lights in the ditch a hundred feet from where he had lay. He followed the light, thankful that his legs weren't broken. Gingerly pressing forward, he wrapped his left arm around his right side, and kept the gash covered on his face with his right hand. He slipped and slid through the muddy embankment, becoming aware at the chunks of tree, rock and what looked like siding from a barn lying strewn about.

When he was within thirty feet of the light, he soon saw what it was. It was his Dad's car, twisted and gnarled like it was made of tin foil. A bigger surprise awaited him, for as he walked towards it, he noticed something lying underneath the car: a still form of a man. His hair, while blood-matted, had specks of grey in it.

"Dad!" Jason cried out. Picking up speed, wincing at the pain in his side, he collapsed at the side of his father, pinned under the twisted wreck. His father seemed to have gotten the worst of it. His face was torn in two places, and his left arm had a compound fracture where the bone had shot out the flesh. He was unconscious.

"Dad!" Jason cried out desperately, each cry afterwards was harder and more desperate than the last. "Dad! Please wake up! Please!" In pure desperation, Jason tried pushing the car off of his father, but a shocking pain in his side made him stop. It was too strong. As he cried out in his pain, he looked around. "Help! Somebody help! Somebody!" He kept calling out. "Somebody, please help! My dad's going to die! Somebody, please!" But there was no answer to his cries for help. The next cries were coupled by tears. "Please…help."

Jason collapsed on to his left side, writhing in his helplessness. He felt his brain numb and his vision started to fade from loss of blood. On top of that was that a shocking sensation started burning his hands, particularly in the fingers.

But he wasn't going to give up now. His father needed him. Sitting up again, he rubbed his bloody hands together to try to numb the shocking pain that was tormenting them, but it only made it worse. As his mind began to fall into a sleepy stupor, he tried once again to shove the car off his father.

He collapsed back on his side, his energy gone as his mind returned to the realm of darkness. He was already out as his vision faded, seeing one last shining light shine on both him and his father as his eyes closed.


	2. Chapter 1: First Call

**CHAPTER 1: First Call**

* * *

><p><em>Discovery! Mutant signature!<br>Isolated signature within twenty mile radius. Extrapolation complete._

_Identification confirmed. _

_Name: Jason Downs_

_Residence: 213 Salvage Blvd.; Red Rock, Oklahoma_

_Coordinates of mutant anomaly: __36°27′36.2″N__97°10′46.1″W__. Location: Two miles west of Red Rock, Oklahoma along State Highway 15._

_WARNING! WARNING! Subject's life signs are nearing critical. WARNING!  
><em>

XXXXXXXXXX

_Xavier Institute for Gifted Children – Friday, April 15, 2011, 9:46 PM_

The lounge of the Xavier Institute was quiet this night. Only around an hour earlier, it was crowded with several of the attending students of the Institute, but now most have retired to their rooms. One, however, still occupied the lounge. Jean Grey was mildly watching the news for a weekly current events assignment she was undertaking for her American Government class at Bayville High. Jean was one of the many students who resided at Xavier's Institute for Gifted Children, and she was here for the same reason they were.

The founder, Professor Charles Xavier, founded the school some time ago. The Professor was no ordinary school principal though, nor was the Institute an ordinary school. Even more relevant, the students and people who came to this Institute were no ordinary people. They were mutants, human beings with a genetic mutation that granted them each unique powers. Their new gifts sadly were often looked upon with fear and aggression by those without powers. Mutants since the discovery of the X-gene have been treated like second-class citizens ever since at the best of times. In other countries, mutants could be lynched by mobs or put to death by the authorities.

Jean, as well as many others, was lucky in a sense to be born in the United States, where mutants received "friendlier" treatment. Mutants were a matter of hot debate in politics, and it would always come to a stalemate. Mutant sympathy would clash with mutant resentment in the federal government as both sides warred on how mutants should be treated in society. Similar battles were fought among the general public. Some embraced mutants; those that didn't mainly ignored mutants or attacked them.

Those mutants found by Professor Xavier were grateful that he had found them. Professor Xavier had founded the school to both teach mutants how to properly use their powers, but also shelter them from a society that would persecute mutants. Professor Xavier had sought for decades to have mutants and humans live together peacefully, and he has passed this on to his students.

Jean sighed and she put down her pencil and notebook. The news was boring her to death as she caught herself nodding off once or twice. The one night she would watch the news, and nothing was happening. Did the news take weekends too? Jean flicked a lock of her long auburn hair out of her face as she looked at a remote that was left across on another table. Narrowing her eyes slightly, she reached out to the remote. The remote by some unseen force levitated from its roost into Jean's hand. Smiling from this little accomplishment, she placed the remote in her lap as she looked at the TV again. Once this news report was over, she would check the other news channels. Surely one of them had something significant to share tonight.

Something piqued inside her head. She didn't move, but she tracked it. Yes, someone was stirring at this time of the night, and apparently was feeling mischievous. Coming down the hall…peeking around the corner…stepping towards her from behind…

Her eyes caught a pillow, and she smiled. Instantly, the pillow flew upwards and soared past her and into the mysterious prankster, who cried out in surprise. Jean laughed. "Kurt, you know better than to sneak behind me."

Suddenly, something—or rather someone— teleported in a puff of smoke and brimstone right into the seat beside hers. The prankster in question was a creature with short cat-like fur all about him, topped by darker blue fur-like hair. The only thing that wasn't quite as furry as the rest of him was a long spear-ended prehensile tail. Despite his gothic appearance, his face bore a smile of a prankster. Kurt, more commonly known as "Nightcrawler," rubbed the back of his head. "Oh, you know I just have to keep trying, _ja_?" Kurt replied in a thick German dialect.

"You can certainly keep trying…and failing."

"Oh, I will get you one of these days, Jean. You will see…you will see…"

"Keep telling yourself that, fuzzy elf," came a new voice. "Even _I_ haven't figured out a way yet."

Both looked to see a tall well-built young man with short brown hair standing in the doorway, taking a drink from a soda bottle. Bearing his trademark red-tinted shades, he nodded at Jean.

"Oh laugh it up, Scott…" Kurt replied, before teleporting away with a _bamf_-sound as the air rushed to fill the space he left behind.

Jean waved away the sulfurous fumes that Kurt left behind while Scott walked up towards Jean. Scott looked to see that Jean had a notebook and pencil beside her. Scott automatically looked up at the TV and sighed. "That dumb current events assignment again?"

Jean leaned back in the chair. "Yeah, and to top it off, the most boring news broadcast ever. At this rate, the most interesting news will be the weather."

Scott moved to sit beside Jean. "And you look like you're about to sleep before the weather report comes back up."

"Ugh, I'm so glad it's the weekend, but it would be nice to get homework out of the way so I can at least enjoy it. But it seems that even the news took the weekend." Jean changed the channel to another news station, which was reporting the stock market numbers after the closing for the evening. "See what I mean?"

"Yeah…riveting." Scott said dryly. "But hey, you should call it a night. There's still tomorrow and Sunday to do this."

"I'm afraid that this weekend may not be the most fun after all, Scott…"

Scott and Jean looked back to see a bald older man in a wheelchair rolling towards them. Both Scott and Jean took one look at the man's face and knew something was up.

"Did you find someone else, Professor?" Jean asked.

"Yes," Professor Xavier replied. "In middle Oklahoma, a young sixteen-year-old by the name Jason Downs."

"You're right, Professor," Scott replied. "It won't be the funnest. Anything we need to know about before we pick him up tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? You are going tonight."

"Tonight!?" Scott exclaimed. "Why?"

"Because Jason is in serious danger. Cerebro has reported that he has been badly hurt."

Jean stood up. "Will he be all right?"

The Professor looked concerned. "I have kept track of him with Cerebro. It was close, but he's stable for now, but something happened to him that has sent him to a hospital. While you go to see him, I'll be using Cerebro to monitor his condition. Unfortunately, beyond Cerebro's warnings, I have not been able to find out how he got hurt."

Jean and Scott looked horrified. "What kind of power could send someone to the hospital? I haven't heard of powers hurting their own master directly," Jean said.

"I doubt his powers are responsible for his injuries, but his injuries may have caused the X-gene within him to awaken violently," Xavier surmised, but then glanced behind Jean towards the TV. "Jean, if you would…"

Jean looked at the TV. "Of course, Professor." Jean turned up the volume when the news was announcing a big break. The reporter wore a large raincoat and was being buffeted by winds in the darkness of the night.

"—_are located near State Highway 15 near the small town of Red Rock, Oklahoma, a small peaceful town only a few miles away from Interstate 35. However, earlier this highway the scene of calamity. Tonight, a large powerful tornado blasted through where I'm standing right now, destroying everything in its path. The tornado thankfully missed the small town by less than two miles, but the tornado found new lives to harm._

"_I am standing only twenty feet from where the tornado crossed the small highway, picked up a car and hurled it dozens of yards into a ditch. The car was carrying two passengers. Soto Udall of the Otoe-Missouria Tribe of Indians said he found the vehicle as he was driving home from Red Rock."_

The camera panned to a Native American middle-aged man. _"I was travelling along this highway with my wife and oldest son, when our lights caught something through the rain. When we pulled over to see, we found the car, surrounded by trees and pieces of barn. We found two bodies near the wreckage. We heard that a tornado had passed through a short time before, but we weren't prepared to see the poor souls."_

The reporter carried on. _"The two men that were found severely injured at the scene were later identified as Patrick and Jason Downs. Both had been thrown out of the car by the twister as it threw their car across the highway."_

Mrs. Udall spoke. _"It was so horrible. We knew these people from town. They are good people. To see them all bloody and hurt…horrifying. We called 911 as soon as we saw them, but we feared they would die before the ambulance got here. It was a miracle they were still alive when they came."_

The reporter carried on. _"Yes, both were still alive when the ambulance carried them off, but in serious condition. I advise you, the following images may disturb you."_

The camera changed to footage caught earlier of the ambulance picking up two men, horrifically injured. The elder looked like he got caught in a meat grinder. All saw the younger whose head appeared to have been smashed. Jean and Scott looked horrified at the atrocity of the injuries, while Professor Xavier calmly folded his hands in front of him. "I apologize. Cerebro was not able to give me the full extent of his injuries, but now I see that time is of the essence...more than ever."

Jean nodded, fighting the sick feeling in her stomach. "We'd better get down there and fast."

The news continued on, showing more presentable pictures of both Patrick and Jason Downs. _"Both were flown to St. Anthony Hospital in Oklahoma City. But strangest of all was how they were found."_

Mrs. Udall spoke again. _"It was unreal. There were the two men, and over them hung their car, twisted and bent back like some great hands bent it in half."_

"_Mrs. Udall's description may not do it justice. The vehicle in question now doesn't even resemble a car. One firefighter at the scene gave his thoughts on the condition of the vehicle."_

The camera changed to a paramedic on site. _"I've helped clean up after the Moore tornado back in May of 1999. All the cars that were in that thing were destroyed, but I've never seen anything like this. It looks like the car was melted then twisted around. It just shows that tornadoes can do things no one else thinks they can. I feel bad for the poor folks that were in this car."_

The reporter showed footage of the vehicle, which appeared to get laced once in a while by a bolt of greenish lightning. Professor Xavier's brow lowered over his eyes. _"We will continue coverage on what happened here with update conditions of the poor people that were caught in this atrocity. I'm Hal Jones of CNN, back to you in the newsroom."_

The news-anchor paused before speaking. _"Truly a sad reminder of Mother Nature's fury. Our thoughts go out to both Patrick Downs, his son Jason and their family, and hope both recover. In other news…"_

None in the lobby said anything for a while. "Poor Jason…" Jean breathed.

"It's amazing he survived, either of them. Someone's got to be looking out for them…" Scott said, mystified after seeing the horror onscreen.

"It's essential that he survives this, but even more so that we get down there quickly before something worse happens," the Professor said earnestly.

"You're right, we'd better get down there before he…well…" Scott hung his words, allowing the implication to float between them all.

"That's not what I mean, Scott…," the Professor said quietly.

Jean looked at the Professor, and she felt a ping in her head. Her eyes widened. "Scott, the Professor means we must get down there before he discovers his powers while still in the hospital."

"Yes, I have a suspicion that what happened to their car was partly the result of Jason's powers in addition to the tornado. If that is true, then his power is extraordinary. If he uses his powers while his mind is still fragile from the tornado…"

"Then his powers could go berserk," Scott finished, suddenly getting it.

"Correct. I must come along now. After such a terrible encounter with a tornado, he may need my help. Get to the X-Jet while I summon Ororo. We will leave tonight."

XXXXXXXXXX

_St. Anthony Hospital; Oklahoma City – April 15, 2011; 9:02 PM_

The hospital doors burst open as two wheeled stretchers surrounded by medical personnel were rushed into the ER. Both stretchers were bearing two horrendously injured men, just hanging on the fragile strings of life. Patrick and Jason Downs were rushed by helicopter to the St. Anthony Hospital as soon as they were found alongside the highway. As they were rushed through the ER, paramedics barked the preliminaries.

"We've got two males: Patrick Downs, 46, and Jason Downs, 16. Both found near their destroyed vehicle after a tornado threw their car. Patrick: fractured skull, several broken ribs, a compound fracture on his left arm and both legs are broken, along with many lacerations and gashes. Jason: fractured skull on his right side, a few broken ribs and a large gash on his right side. Both are unconscious."

Several nurses and intensivists joined the group. The intensivists took charge. "Get both stabilized. Get Patrick and Jason into an operating room stat, we need to get the skull and other bones reset. Get Jason on a backboard and into a collar after surgery, then into the ICU. You know the drills, people. Go!"

As both were raced off to the operating rooms, Jason was quickly examined to see the extension of the skull fracture. It was determined that metal plates and screws were needed to place the bones to heal correctly, and so it was done. Once out, he was rushed to ICU, where on his bed was placed a stiff fiberglass board with straps to hold him in tight. A stiff-foam collar was fit around his neck to hold his head in one position, and then with one hoist, his body was transferred from the stretcher to the board. As nurses quickly administered IVs and applied bandages to the more superficial wounds, an intensivist hurried to get the large gash closed while ordering a couple pints of O-negative blood to make up for blood loss.

In a matter of minutes, the doctors had compiled a full list of injuries that both have sustained along with their profiles:

_Jason Downs, male white/Caucasian male_  
><em>Age: 16<em>  
><em>Height: 6'<em>  
><em>Hair: Brown<em>  
><em>Eyes: Green<em>  
><em>Weight: 150 lbs.<em>  
><em>Status: stable<em>  
><em>Maladies: fractured skull, moderate concussion, three broken ribs, six-inch gash on right side of head, numerous bruises and scrapes; still in coma<em>  
><em>Odds of survival: questionable<em>

_Patrick Downs, male white/Caucasian male_  
><em>Age: 46<em>  
><em>Height: 5'10"<em>  
><em>Hair: Brown<em>  
><em>Eyes: Blue<em>  
><em>Weight: 180 lbs.<em>  
><em>Status: in surgery<em>  
><em>Maladies: fractured skull, moderate concussion, five broken ribs, compound fracture of left radius, broken left tibia and right fibula, broken back, numerous bruising and scrapes, bruised liver, spleen and diaphragm, collapsed left lung<em>  
><em>Odds of survival: unfavorable<em>

Hours past as the day ended and the new one began. Patrick was eventually transferred to the ICU once surgery to correct the bones had finished, and he too was strapped into a backboard and collar. He was placed in an adjacent booth next to Jason as doctors and nurses monitored their conditions faithfully as the dawn broke, beckoning the new day. Neither had regained consciousness during that time, and the more they stayed unconscious, their odds dwindled.

During the night, a distraught mother came rushing into the outpatient clinic asking for her husband and son. Soon, she was standing outside the ICU as the glass wall stood between her and her injured family. Faithfully, she waited outside the ICU as the sun rose outside, and press began gathering outside the hospital. She couldn't see them just yet, not while her family was hurt and unconscious.

Soon, she was met by a doctor of the ICU. "Mrs. Downs? I'm Dr. Sontagg."

Susan Downs looked up to him. "Do you have news about my husband and son?"

"Yes, but you may want to sit down."

Some mother instinct within her screamed that this wasn't going to be good news. She sat down in a chair across from the entrance to the ICU. "What's wrong with them?"

Dr. Sontagg sat down. "I've worked with patients that have sustained much worse from tornadoes. Your son and husband are lucky to be in the shape there in, present state notwithstanding. However, I have to be honest: while it looks like Jason will recover from all of his injuries, the damage to his skull was very severe. We're afraid of what this might have done to his brain. We are going to have to run tests on him once he wakes up. We can't run tests while he's still unconscious, you understand."

Susan didn't reply, but she understood. "What about Patrick?"

The doctor looked pained. "Yes, Patrick. He has suffered the worst. We were able to reset the bones, and treat his internal injuries, but there's still one thing you need to know. It appears the tornado had dropped the car on his back, judging from the condition of his back. The spinal cord in his lower back was severed." The doctor sighed before delivering his denouement. "Mrs. Downs, I'm afraid your husband will not be able to walk again. He'll need to be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life."

Susan clapped a hand over her mouth in a silent sob.

"The greatest danger is still close. Both have received concussions in the catastrophe and are both in comas. Unless they wake up soon, we might not be able to help them. I'm sorry…"

Susan's hopes died as the doctor left her to grieve in peace. Only the previous day, her son was going to compete in regionals with his science project that won the school science fair. Now he was lying strapped to a board lost to the world. Her husband too was fighting for his life, and his reward was to be sentenced to life into a wheelchair. He would have to quit his job at the factory, and he was their means of support. And now she may lose both him and their son, and all from one night. How did it come to this?

Letting the tears come forth, she summoned any hope she had left, and hoped someone out there somewhere could help.

XXXXXXXXXX

_Along Highway 15, two miles west of Red Rock, Oklahoma – April 16, 2011, 8:02 AM_

It had been an eventful night in rural Oklahoma, just off Interstate 35. Highway crew were already at the scene, cleaning up the road from the tornado that had rampaged through the night before, nearly destroying two lives at this site. The tornado, having been unofficially rated an EF3, had travelled on north-northeast from where they are and destroyed several farms and homes. Four people lost their lives in that night, and many more were injured.

The trees and debris from the road were easy enough to clean up, but the question remained on what to do with the car. It was so twisted up that they weren't sure how to properly pick it up without it coming to pieces on them. As they debated the best course of removal, they espied a large black van pull up alongside the highway. All watched inattentively while working to see a woman with long white hair step out of the car. She walked towards the wreckage of the car and began taking pictures of it. The working crew shrugged it off. More press.

The woman went to the far side of the car, to keep the car between her and the crew. As she took pictures of the damage, she examined the car closely. The news reports weren't exaggerating; this car looked like it had been melted and refused by some immense display of power. Experimentally, she placed one hand against the gnarled section of the car. It was quite cool. That shocked the woman greatly; metal subjected to the kind of heat to melt the surface of the car needed to be immense, at least two-thousand Kelvin. Moreover, metal could never cool that fast, no matter how thermal conductive it was. Lightning was hot enough to melt it, but this was too expansive for simple lightning strikes. Rain might have cooled it, but not this fast and not without cracking. Whatever happened to this car was something else entirely, something unnatural.

The woman closed her eyes and concentrated. _"Professor, I have arrived at the place where the boy and his father were found." _

A voice replied inside her head. _"Very good, Storm. What do you make of it?"_

"_The news reports were right. It's unlike anything I've seen before. It does look like something melted it then bent it back. However, that's not the strangest part. The surface of the car has already cooled off. Metal changes temperature fast, but not this fast and not without cracking. I don't believe any kind of thermal conductivity caused this."_

"_I see. Jason seems to possess a power unlike any other mutant we have discovered."_

"_I agree, and if he can do this to a vehicle while injured, who knows what else he can do?"_

"_Indeed. We are just now arriving at St. Anthony's. I'm hoping that his mother is here so we may discuss Jason's future, but if Jason's injuries are too severe, now may not be the time. On top of that, there is an even more pressing concern: I sincerely doubt we were the only ones who caught the news last night."_

Storm's eyes widened. She knew whom the Professor was referring to. _"Understood, Professor."_

"_Good. Join us at the hospital. Have you taken photographs of the vehicle?"_

"_Yes, Professor. I shall see you soon." _

"_I look forward to seeing them."_

With that, she promptly turned away from the wreckage and towards the X-Van. Inwardly, she was amazed that the child and his father survived such an ordeal with nature's fury. On one hand, she wished she had been here to prevent such destruction upon this child and his father. But on the other hand, she knew that she couldn't be there for every tornado or hurricane that came bulldozing through. A small tragedy of having such power at one's disposal; no one could save them all.

For some reason, this child spurred uneasiness within her. The power required to do that to a vehicle had to be immense. Very few mutants had that kind of power, and she knew that the X-Men would not be the only people looking for him. Storm climbed into the X-Van and drove away, feeling a strange sense of foreboding about this.

As the X-Van drove away, one of the workers excused himself to take a smoke. After getting away from the others into the nearby trees, the worker looked around to see if he was alone. Sensing he was alone, the worker's body quickly shifted into a new shape: a blue-scaled, red-haired woman wearing a white tight-fitting dress that past the hips draped loosely. The woman looked around again to make sure no one had seen her metamorphism; one could never be too sure. Convinced she was alone, she pulled out a communicator from within her suit. Placing a bud in her ear and holding the other piece to her mouth, she spoke quietly, "The X-Men are here. Storm had just left the scene near the highway. No doubt that Charles has already moved to reach the boy." The woman paused as she listened to the voice on the other end. "This is one we want for our cause; his power is incredible, and his ability to survive a tornado will make him an excellent asset for us." A pause. "Charles is too careful to force the boy to join while still injured. He will wait until he's adequately healed." Another pause. "Understood, I am on the way."

The woman hid the communicator away, and smiled. "You learn way too slow, Professor. The boy will be ours, thanks to your caution. The boy will pave us the way towards the salvation of mutant-kind."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Hey, where is everyone?" said a high voice in a medium Southern drawl.

A pale slim girl with shoulder-length brown hair flecked with white locks to the front had just walked into the empty kitchen at the Institute, thus provoking her question. Rogue had entered the kitchen on this Saturday morning, a little miffed that her attempt at sleeping in wasn't entirely successful. Her frustration had evaporated at the sight of an empty kitchen, which typically had people having late breakfast at this time on a typical Saturday. Contrarily, it was empty this time.

Rogue didn't miss the bustle that normally occupied the kitchen on Saturday, or any other day for that matter, but the absence of the bustle perplexed her enough. After all, she couldn't help but be curious at the change of pace. She felt her stomach growl as the smell of food in the kitchen began to work on her, but she decided to check the other rooms for any sign of the others, most notably Jean and Scott. Perhaps they had probably already left the mansion to get away for the weekend.

Out of a flash of smoke, a blue-furred humanoid materialized right in front of her, startling Rogue. "Hey, Rogue. You called for someone?"

Recovering herself, she looked darkly at the new arrival. "Kurt! You keep doing that _bamf_ thing in my face and we'll find out just how fast I can drain you!"

Kurt didn't seem threatened. "And here I thought you were looking for company, the way you were calling about."

Rogue scoffed. "Even if I was, it wouldn't be you. I was just wondering where everyone is, okay?"

"Is there problem?" said a deep voice, thick with a Russian accent.

Rogue and Kurt looked to see the tall built figure of Piotr Rasputin standing in the doorway to the kitchen; or more accurately, crouching into the kitchen. Boasting a height of six-foot-seven, Piotr easily towered over all the others at the Institute, forcing Rogue and Kurt to look up at him.

His height however did not intimidate Rogue. "Nothing, Piotr. Just…Kurt being annoying…as usual."

"Hey!"

"I see. Forgive me, then." Without another word, Piotr vanished out of the room. Kurt and Rogue watched him go.

"I like how the world goes silent when Colossus enters the room," Kurt finally said.

"Leave him alone, Kurt." Rogue crossed her arms. "He's had it rough."

Kurt perked up. "Really? Did he finally talk about it?"

"No, but the Professor told us to leave him alone, so don't even think about it!"

Kurt raised his tridactyl hands. "I wasn't going to."

"Uh-huh," Rogue said doubtfully, but let it go. "I feel like I'm going to regret this, but do you know where everyone disappeared to?"

"Why? Feeling lonely, Rogue?" Kurt jeered.

Rogue glowered at Kurt while pulling off one of her gloves threateningly.

"Okay, okay! _Mein gott_…I don't know where Scott and Jean went, or the Professor and Storm. I got up earlier today and found them gone too. So, I teleported into the _Blackbird_ bay, and it too was gone!"

That got Rogue interested. "Okay, what kind of grand emergency have we just missed?"

"Beats me," Kurt said, scratching his thick dark-blue hair, but then he snapped his fingers, almost all of them. "But I think I know one who knows!"

XXXXXXXXXX

"And what makes you think _I_ know something?"

"Come on, Mr. McCoy! If there is anything going on that the Professor is doing, he'd tell you or Storm first," Kurt reasoned earnestly.

Henry "Hank" McCoy, a large blue-furred gorilla-like mutant, put down _The Complete Works of Shakespeare_ that he had been reading in the front parlor of the mansion and replied. Smiling gently, which contradicted his more dangerous appearance, he continued, "I suppose it won't hurt. Last night, Cerebro detected another unique mutant reading. The Professor, as well as Storm, Jean and Scott went down to central Oklahoma to find the young boy whom Cerebro detected."

Kurt was ecstatic, leaping backwards onto a handstand, then back upright. "Cool! Another teammate! I wonder if he's a teleporter…"

Rogue couldn't resist. "Why, feeling lonely, 'Nightcrawler'?"

"Play nice, you two," Hank McCoy said mildly. "Don't get too excited, Kurt. If the reports are not exaggerating—and I doubt they are in this instance—it will be some time before the young man will be able to come, providing he accepts the Professor's offer in the first place."

Rogue and Kurt looked at Hank. "What do you mean 'some time'?" Rogue managed to say.

Hank picked up a newspaper, looking through it until he came to one small article on the third page. "Read and be enlightened."

Rogue took the newspaper from Hank and started to read, conscious that Kurt was reading over her shoulder. The title of the article caught her attention already: Tornado Terrorizes Oklahoma Town. Reading on, she learned about a tornado that had come too close to hitting a small town in Oklahoma. Instead, it hit several farms, killing four people and hurting at least ten; two of which had made the article: a father and his son, both in critical condition.

Rogue looked over the paper. "Ok, that was a sad thing in Oklahoma, but what does this have to do with the Professor?"

Hank pointed to the newspaper with his heavy fingers. "The son in the article, Jason, is the source of the anomaly Cerebro detected last night."

"You mean the kid the Professor is going after got hurt in a tornado? And I thought I had it bad…" Kurt said while he felt at his face, and not for the first time.

Rogue immediately felt bad for Jason. "Well, I hope he's okay…"

"We as well," Hank said. "In the meantime, the others have gone out to see him and to plant the seeds. But right now, Jason is in no condition to join us at the Institution."

Rogue blurted out. "Even if he wasn't going to join us here, I would still hope he gets better."

Kurt jeered. "Ooh, does the Rogue have a crush on the new guy?"

Rogue whipped off a glove promptly and was about to give Kurt the drain of his life, but with a _bamf_ Kurt teleported away. Rogue looked incensed. "Oh, he's not getting away that easily…"

Rogue took off to hunt down Kurt, while Hank picked up his novel again, re-submersing himself into "The Tempest."

XXXXXXXXXX

A nurse hovered around Jason's bed, changing the bloodied bandages with great care, all the while listening to the heart monitor dolefully beep as it tracked Jason's heartbeat. Twelve hours had passed since this poor boy was nearly killed by a tornado. Despite being unconscious, his vitals remained strong and his wounds appeared to be clotting well. If he continued to improve, they may even be able to take him off the backboard and out of ICU later today upon awakening. If only the same could be said about his father…

The nurse tried not to look outside. She knew the mother was waiting just outside the ICU, having barely slept since arriving during the night. She couldn't blame his poor boy's mother for not sleeping really. Had it been her son brutally injured in the ICU, she likely would have been the same way. For parents, being cut off from their son in the hospital can be just as horrible as being so hurt themselves. It was all the worse for this mother, as both her husband and son were out of reach. No one deserved that, but life was often too cruel.

After the nurse replaced all the bandages, she quickly checked the morphine drip. There was still plenty of the solution so no further action was necessary. About then, she noticed that the heart rate monitor was beeping a trifle faster than before. Looking back at it, the heart rate began to climb by degrees. The nurse looked at Jason, alerted. Jason's eyes began to flutter, and his fingers twitched slightly. He was waking up!

Jason's chest rose and fell more pronouncedly as his eyes gently opened. His olive drab eyes blinked and darted around, taking in the sterile-white ceiling and harsh fluorescent lights. The nurse laid a hand on Jason's bedside. "Jason?" Jason's eyes shot towards the nurse, startled. "Don't worry, you're safe. Do you know where you are?"

The nurse's words were muddy as his hearing was still catching up after being unconscious for so long. Stirring slightly, he realized he was strapped to a board that bound his back uncomfortably. Only his arms could move, and Jason gingerly reached up touched the right side of his face, finding that bandages had covered almost all of that side of his face. Further exploration revealed the bandages wrapped around his head and neck, and more covered his arms and he felt them over.

"I'm going to get Dr. Cohen, and he'll want to ask you some questions." The nurse's voice was more crisp and clear. "Will you be okay with that?"

Jason swallowed a couple of times; his throat felt like gravel. He managed to whisper. "Water."

"I'll bring by some ice-chips for you when I fetch the doctor. Please remain still; you've been through a lot last night." Promptly, the nurse left.

Now alone, Jason felt around his bed and himself to get his bearings. He could feel the straps wrapping him against the hard fiberglass board. He tried turning his head, but something held it fast. Feeling around, he felt a stiff collar wrapped around his neck, completely immobilizing it. He felt his shoulders aching as they rubbed against the backboard. _"How long was I out? Where am I?" _he thought, his eyes trying to snatch any clue to his questions.

Sooner than expected, the nurse returned with the intensivist on staff, Dr. Cohen. Dr. Cohen looked genuinely pleased. "Hello, Jason. You've had a rough night."

Jason wanted to laugh, but being strapped down to a board dampened his humor; all he could do was smile. "I guess…," he moaned.

"Do you remember what happened?"

Jason tried to think, but his mind felt like tar. "I think so…I remember coming back from…Enid with my Dad…" Blanching, the image of his father underneath the car shot across his mind's eye. "Wait, where's Dad?"

"He's stable, but badly hurt, just like you. I need you to remain calm, Jason, and try to concentrate on what you remember from last night."

Jason was already breathing hard from the adrenaline rush he just experienced; the blood pumping from his heart was making his head hurt as well. Taking some deep breaths, he calmed down some. "We were coming back…then there was a..." Jason exhaled sharply. "…then there was a…"

Jason's mind exploded with raw images of the previous night, coupled with an intense burning in his fingertips. He could still see and hear it: the car being jostled like a toy, seeing his father mutilated under the car, the roar of the tornado…

With a gasp, he saw the ceiling and lights again. His heart was hammering, but was slowing down. He felt lightheaded and his fingers felt like they had been dunked in acid. The nurse and Dr. Cohen had flanked him on either side, with determined looks carved on to their faces. "What happened?"

"Panic attack, and that's one thing we need to talk about," Dr. Cohen said, the continued cautiously. "You've been badly hurt, Jason, but you took a very nasty blow to the head, a very hard blow."

Jason felt the right side of his head again, feeling the weave of the bandage against his aching fingertips. "How bad?"

"You suffered a major skull fracture, parts of your skull caved into your cranial cavity. This is creating intense pressure build-up in your brain. We will need to run tests to see if there is damage present, and considering what just happened, we'll need to get started right away. Is that all right with you?"

Jason tried to nod, but forgot about his brace. He replied. "Yeah, I guess so."

The nurse cut in. "Before that, I imagine there is someone you would like to see." The nurse looked behind her, stepping aside to let Jason see. Jason raised his head up as far as he could, cursing the straps and collar immobilizing him. Just within his scope of vision stood a brown-haired woman, who looked like she had spent all night crying. She was standing outside the ICU, looking past the glass that separated them from each other. Jason smiled, raising a hand in a wave, wishing she was beside him right now.

From the other side of the glass, Susan looked at her son as she had awakened and looked like he was going to be all right. Her heart felt lighter, as if it dropped bricks-worth of weight. Her husband was still unconscious, but seeing her son wave to her brought new hope to her soul. She watched as the doctor talked a bit further with Jason, and then watched as a couple more nursing assistants come in to place Jason back onto a gurney. She knew what was next: he was going to have to undergo tests to see if his brain had sustained significant damage from last night. He seemed alert and awake enough though; maybe they won't find anything and that the injury just looks worse than it really was.

Dr. Sontagg, Jason's doctor outside the ICU, met Dr. Cohen at the ICU entrance to talk about Jason's upcoming tests. At the same time, the nurses began wheeling Jason out of the ICU and down the hall. Susan raced to keep up with him. Jason heard footsteps coming from behind and peered up to see who it was. His eyes caught his mother just arriving at his side. "Hi, Mom…" he managed to say, noticing his mother's bloodshot eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry, Jason." His mother wiped her eyes. "I was so worried about you and your father when I heard. I thought I was going to lose you. How are you, Jason?"

Jason grimaced a bit before answering. "Solid, although I feel like I got hit by a truck. Maybe I was."

Susan smiled. If Jason had the drive to jest, then he was going to be all right.

Jason reached for his mother's hand, which she took. "Is Dad okay?"

Susan didn't say anything right away. Patrick was still in a coma and was in danger of dying while still under it. She was still worried about him earnestly, but some prickling in her heart told her to not worry Jason just yet, not while he was recovering. "He's…fine. The doctors are taking good care of him."

Jason blinked; he wasn't buying it. "Mom?"

Before he got to finish, the nurses reached the radiology hall. The RA stepped in. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Downs, I must ask you remain outside here."

Jason squeezed his mother's hand, his eyes desperate. "Mom?"

"We'll talk later, sweetheart. You concentrate on getting better. Do what the nurses and doctors say."

Before Jason could respond, the nurses guided his bed through the double doors into the radiology hall. Susan watched him go apprehensively, the swinging doors adding finality to the departure. She knew that soon she would have to let him know how his father was doing, but right now the truth was just as hard for her as it would be for him. Having that kind of worry on him could hamper his ability to heal from his injuries.

Dr. Sontagg, pausing outside the door to the radiology hall, reassured the worried mother. "You're doing the right thing, Mrs. Downs. Jason needs to concentrate on healing right now."

"I know…I'm still trying to convince myself I'm doing the right thing," Susan replied, wiping away fresh tears with a tissue.

Dr. Sontagg continued on. "We will need to conduct a CT-scan on the right side of his brain; that's where the majority of any trauma will be. However, Dr. Cohen has informed me of a panic attack Jason had. While under it, Jason started complaining of his fingers burning, although I doubt he remembers that. It's possible this is a symptom of brain trauma. We will also need to do an EEG to see if we can find any neuropathies."

"Of course, whatever you need…"

"It's not just that, Mrs. Downs. I need to be upfront with you on this. His fingertips may just be in pain now, but it could get worse. Neuropathies can be debilitating if left alone. Worst case scenario is that Jason may be suffering from polyneuritis or multiple neuritis. If we can't find the source of the problem, his pain may spread, then turn into numbness, and eventually loss of function. If we find the cause of his neuropathy in these next couple of tests, we should be able to reverse the damage. Judging from the medical files you provided for Jason, I know this is not genetic and very likely to be reversible. However, I feel the need to warn you."

"Thank you, doctor." Susan felt more hopeful that her boy would make a full recovery.

"On a lighter note, if we find no neural damage to the spinal cord or peripheral systems, we should be able to get Jason off of the backboard. The collar for his skull fracture will need to stay on for at least another day, but we may be able to transfer him out of ICU and into a room before evening. Once his father wakes, we'll do the same routine for him."

"Thank you again, doctor." Susan choked up. "I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you for your kindness…"

"You don't have to," Dr. Sontagg reassured. "We are doing our best. Now if you will excuse me..." With that, Dr. Sontagg went through the double doors, leaving Susan alone in the hall.

She looked on after the doctor for a bit, and then left for the ICU. Both were in good hands, and one was on the road to recovery. Now that Jason would be all right, she needed to be there for Patrick when he wakes up. Jason was in good hands; all she needed to do now was to trust the doctors.


	3. Chapter 2: Awakening

**CHAPTER 2:**** Awakening**

* * *

><p><em>Outside St. Anthony's Hospital, Oklahoma City; April 16, 2011; 9:41 AM<em>

The Professor had arrived in Oklahoma City earlier during the night, along with Scott, Jean and Storm. All had mutually decided to spend the remainder of the night in the X-Jet, which now sat in stealth-mode outside city limits. Professor Xavier knew all too well how humanity reacted to the presence of mutants, and stumbling upon a supersonic jet outside a major city would certainly not help matters.

As Storm was returning from investigating the scene where Jason and his father were found, the Professor, Jean and Scott took the Professor's private car into the city—having stored the car in the cargo bay before departing the Institute. While conspicuous, it was certainly less so than a jet. Now the three had come to the St. Anthony's Hospital that morning. The first thing that hit them was that it was a very large hospital; it was quite breathtaking.

"Quite a stately hospital," Jean said.

"Indeed," the Professor replied. "Naturally it has to be to accommodate the amount of patients it sees every day."

"I have to ask:" Scott said, breaking the mood. "How are we going to find Jason in this place?"

"Patience, Scott," replied the Professor. "Every obstacle can be overcome with enough perseverance…" Xavier then looked ahead. "…although some obstacles can be more aggravating than others."

Jean's and Scott's gaze followed the Professor's: stairs. "Yeah, I suppose they are…" Scott said, with a touch of humor.

Jean looked around. She saw many people coming towards or going away from the hospital doors, and felt saddened at the scene. Most of these people had loved ones in this hospital for various reasons, and a small percentage of them had loved ones that would never leave this hospital alive despite the doctors' best efforts. Soon several news vans parked in the lots drew her attention. It was possible they were here for a scoop on the tornado story, she considered with a growing scowl. While she knew the importance of reporting the news, she still felt somewhat repulsed at such eagerness to get the story regardless of the personal feelings of the victims. Had reporters no respect?

"We'd best get moving," Charles abruptly said while moving towards a handicap-accessible ramp. "When Jason awakens, they will likely run tests on him. We will have to wait until his tests are over, and hopefully, find out which room he will be taken to."

Scott frowned. "Not to be Johnny Rain Cloud, but why _should_ the hospital just let us in to see a patient that has—to them—no ties to us?"

Charles had to smile. "Leave that to me. In the meantime, I suggest you keep close."

Scott groaned. "I hate hospitals."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Try to keep still, Jason. Even the slightest movements can muddy the readings."

Jason raised a thumbs-up wordlessly to show he understood, although he inwardly squirmed at the thought of holding still for God knows how long. Trying to relax, he felt the sterile air of the hospital make him sleepy as his eyes scoped the CT scanner. He thought his back couldn't feel any stiffer, but he was proven wrong as soon as he was laid on the table. He tried his hardest to make himself more comfortable as he slid into the space in the scanner, which reminded him of a washing machine.

He heard the machine kick on and start to whir as the scan began. As he lay there, his mind started to work. He could hardly believe that just last night went where it did and so quickly. Now he was here, his memories painfully muddy. He knew he got hurt in that tornado, but when he tried to delve into the details, he could feel needles of insanity lance him as he did.

Jason was no slouch at science; he was among the top of his class in science and math, and so he recalled his education in search for answers. He heard of brain disorders that needed only a specific thought pattern to cause an attack, but those disorders were often genetic and elusive. In addition, he had no idea regarding the extent of his injuries, particularly underneath his skin. For all he knew, it was just trauma…a fact that unsettled him.

Before even coming to his room, doctors and techs told him they were looking for. They suspected brain trauma as a result from being caught in the twister's circulation. Jason clenched his hands and unclenched them repeatedly; they felt like they were crackling with electricity. His mind raced to find an answer, upsetting his headache. He cursed mentally; even thinking hurt.

The supervising technician spoke to him. "Jason, you need to keep still. That includes your hands."

"That's all right, we're just about done anyway," Dr. Sontagg intervened. "Are your hands hurting again?"

"Yeah," Jason managed, exhaling sharply. "A lot."

"It's called _parethesia_; usually it's only 'pins and needles' but sometimes it's more painful. Do you feel any numbness?"

"No, just burning and tingling, like I grabbed an electric fence." Jason breathed hard while his hands constantly clenched and unclenched.

"We're not going to see what's causing your parethesia until the techs return with the results. That should be soon though." Dr. Sontagg reached behind the desk and brought out two stress balls. "Here, try these. I give these to people who get antsy before the CT scanning. We can bring them to the next test if you wish."

Jason eyed the rubber balls in the doctor's hands. "Might work. What's the next test again?" Jason unconsciously rubbed his hands together. Lightning shot up his nerves, burning his muscles and ripping his arms from each other. Jason gasped and yelled, "God, it hurts! Make it stop!"

"2cc of icine, stat!" Dr. Sontagg commanded. As a nurse injected the colorless medicine through the IV channel, Dr. Sontagg urged Jason. "Jason, breathe deep. Relax."

Within seconds, the pain faded but Jason could feel it still burning his muscles like thorns. As his breathing slowed and his eyes pooled with hot tears, Jason rubbed his bandaged head, unaware that his free hand had started twitching. "What's happening to me?"

Dr. Sontagg noticed the spasm. "We're going to start the EEG next. Along with the CT, it should show us what's going on." Dr. Sontagg laid the stress balls on Jason's chest. "We'll be right back with the gurney to take you there. Relax and breathe, Jason."

Jason watched them leave, or tried to. His gaze fell to the balls on his chests. He had one back in his room, and he used it frequently while thinking. A polyurethane foam rubber ball in the hands was strangely relaxing. He wasn't sure if squeezing the balls would help or hurt his hands, but he was willing to risk it. He grabbed for the balls. Suddenly, green bolts of energy shot all around his hands and the balls. Stunned, Jason dropped the balls, but they were fastened to his palms. Gasping in fright, he watched with dread and awe as the rubber balls melted over his flesh, between his fingers and down his wrist. The rubber seared his flesh, streaming tears from his eyes. Jason cried out in agony as the transformation continued unabated.

The door burst open, doctors rushing into the room when they heard Jason scream "Get it off! Get it off!" They were greeted with something bizarre: Jason's wrists were bound in black rubber, but were steaming freshly, occasionally lanced with green bolts of energy. Doctors quickly rushed to Jason to calm him down but balked. Finally, Jason was given a sedative as a nurse inspected the hands. Jason stopped screaming; his eyes rolled back and fell unconscious.

Now quiet, the doctors studied the alien material. Dr. Sontagg probed at it with a gloved hand and was shocked. It was the same material that the rubber ball was, only now stretched over his hands.

The nurse spoke for them all. "What happened here?"

Dr. Sontagg shook his head, completely baffled. "I don't know…"

XXXXXXXXXX

Susan hadn't left her watch at the ICU. As soon as Jason disappeared into radiology, she returned to watch over her husband, Patrick. He still had not regained consciousness; it had been over twelve hours now and there was no apparent change. She watched without seeing as nurses come in, check on him and the other ICU patients, then leave again. Several times she watched this maddening cycle, and it wore at her every time. Her mind echoed with a looming question: how she was going to tell Jason and Bethany that their father will never be able to walk ever again? She knew what needed to be done to keep the family together: she would have to find a job, and Jason might have to as well after recovering. Financially, they may be fine, but how would they do where it mattered most? Jason was sixteen and was already getting offers from technical colleges around the country. Jason was seriously considering becoming a technician for the armed forces, designing new types of armor for soldiers, SWAT teams and eventually policemen. He had presented how it is possible to make durable but lightweight armor, using a galvanized carbon shell, filled with a tight weave of spider fiber. Sourcing a recent breakthrough of genetically-modified silkworms making spider silk, he stated that weaves thick enough can make an armor type that would rival Kevlar, but be lighter and more cost effective. Jason had practiced the presentation in front of his parents before going to regionals a few days later.

Susan smiled at the memory. Over an hour before the storm last night, she received a call from her husband that Jason won first place in the regionals. She was never so more proud of their son. Patrick had said when they would be home, but when the allotted time came and gone, neither returned and there was no word. It wasn't until another hour later did she receive a phone call…from the hospital. Now, she was here, stuck neck deep in despondency as her husband continued to sleep and her son was gone from her sight.

As she fretted, she didn't notice someone joined her in observing the activity in the ICU: a bald man in a wheelchair had silently rolled up and was watching the nurses tend to other patients; some were victims of the same tornado. The man's eyes moved about the room, as if he was searching for something. After some time, he leaned back in his wheelchair and exhaled. Startled, Susan looked at the man. "Oh! I'm terribly sorry…"

The man, startled by the woman's reaction, quickly replied. "No, the fault is mine. I should have let you know that I was here." He offered a hand. "I am Professor Charles Xavier."

Susan took the hand. "Susan Downs." Susan looked at the wheelchair and suppressed a shudder, her husband's fate.

The Professor seemed not to notice. "A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Downs." The Professor looked into the ICU, taking pity on all those inside. "You know someone in there?"

"My husband. My son was in there too, but he was taken for testing." Susan stifled another attack of tears. Despite the friendliness of this stranger, she couldn't bear breaking down in front of him.

The Professor blanched. "Your husband _and_ son? I'm so sorry. It must have been a terrible accident."

"No, it wasn't an accident." Susan started to say, but choked. Recovering, she continued, "My husband, Patrick, and my son, Jason, were coming back home from a school event, and then…" She felt herself choke up again. "…the tornado…"

The Professor looked up at Susan, and there was the slightest hint of astonishment on his face. "Oh dear, I didn't realize…" the Professor cut himself off, looking for a place for the weary and grieving mother to sit down. "Do you need to sit down, Mrs. Downs?"

Susan involuntarily took out a well-used handkerchief from her purse and patted away the fresh wetness from her eyes. "Please, call me Susan." She silently accepted the Professor's offer to sit down.

"Very well; then you may call me Charles if you so wish." The Professor led Susan to a chair, turning it to park it perpendicular to the chair Susan just sat down in.

XXXXXXXXXX

Jean and Scott waited in the front lounge of the outpatient clinic, passing the time each their own way. The Professor had gone on ahead into the rest of the hospital towards the ICU, leaving his two students behind. Scott was chafing; he didn't like being in a hospital, even in the lounge. So he sat next to Jean nervously, scoping the place as if it was the Danger Room.

In a stark contrast, Jean was reading a magazine patiently, no more minding her surroundings than the breeze on a sunny day. She kept her mind open as she read, however, waiting for any mental ping from Professor X about anything. As she waited, she could feel Scott's stress rumble through his mind like a thunderstorm, and it was distracting. After a few minutes, she finally had enough. "Will you quit it, Scott!?"

Scott physically jumped at such a stern request from Jean. "Quit what?"

"It! You're fidgeting like a ferret, and it's distracting."

Scott's scowled behind his ruby-quartz lenses. "Sorry! I just hate hospitals."

Jean still looked cross. "Yes, you've said that before."

Scott sighed. "You don't understand."

Jean slammed her magazine down on her lap. "Scott, we've known each other for God knows how long, and that's all you've got to say? Just how long is it going to take for you to be honest with me!?"

Scott pursed his lips, but leaned back from Jean's outburst. "Jean! Can you keep it down?"

Jean was about to object, but then grew aware at the gathering stares that she had drawn towards her. Feeling redder than her hair, she spoke out to the curious onlookers. "Sorry! I just…uh…I'm just going to…uh…" Jean gave up and hastily picked up the magazine again, aware of the chortling.

Scott had to smile, but sobered up at seeing Jean glare at him. "Scott, if you don't tell me what is going on in two seconds, I will throw you out the door and I won't have to use my powers."

Scott gulped; despite weighing more than her, Jean wouldn't let that stop her from fulfilling her threat. Jean did have a point, though. He trusted Jean with his own issues; they were just uncomfortable to talk about. He sighed resignedly. "It's just…not something I want to talk about."

Jean arched an eyebrow. "But?"

"But…you have a point. Yeah…" Scott sighed, gathering his thoughts for the uncomfortable push. "You know that I lost my Mom, my Dad and my brother in the plane crash right?"

"Yeah, you told me that several months ago."

"Remember that I told you that I woke up in a hospital? The doctor said I was out for three weeks." Jean could see Scott blink behind his opaque shades. "Every time I come into a hospital, I—" Scott cut himself short, and Jean didn't need telepathy to guess the rest.

"You remember that day," she finished. Now she felt like a perfect heel for reacting the way she did at Scott's behavior now. Berating herself on her insensitivity, she said sorrowfully, "I'm sorry, Scott."

"It's okay. I just wish the Professor would hurry up. I may have to step outside soon." Scott suppressed a shudder.

"If you need to, go ahead. The Professor will take all the time that he needs. Besides, Jason may still be in testing. He's probably waiting or talking to the mother if she's here. I can wait here."

"Well, maybe that's a good—" Scott was interrupted by a phone ring from Jean's pocket.

Jean picked up the phone and looked at the caller ID. "It's Storm!" Jean answered the phone. "Hello?" Scott sat back down as Jean continued the phone call. It was short but informative. Soon, Jean hung up. "She got the photos and she's almost here."

Scott sniffed. "Well, so much for my getaway plan…"

Jean wrapped her arms around Scott's free arm. "Well, you can always just do what normal people do and just relax."

Scott froze slightly when he felt her arms wrapped around his. Refocusing his mind, he said, "Sorry, I don't know how."

Jean's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yeah, I can tell."

XXXXXXXXXX

Minutes passed by in the dozens as both Susan and the Professor continued to converse about her family, which seemed to always manage to circumnavigate back to Jason himself. At first, Susan paid no notice, but as the trend continued, she had to wonder why the focus kept returning to her son. Most would eventually grow bored and move on to another topic, but not the Professor apparently. Even though her husband was in far worse condition—more or less—the Professor didn't seem interested in his welfare. Who was this man, and what did he want? Was it just a slip in manners, or was he interested in something more about Jason? She felt she needed to ask, "If you will pardon me…but why did you come here?"

The Professor had expected that type of question, and appeared to be prepared. "As a matter of fact, I came to talk to you about Jason…although it seems we have quite a bit now."

Despite the fact her suspicions were confirmed, Susan still felt surprised. Part of her wanted to leave, but another part of her was curious. "What…else do you need to know about him?"

"We briefly talked about the Regional Expo in Enid. A colleague of mine was there last night, studying the presentations. Upon seeing Jason's project, he gave me a call."

Susan considered the explanation. It sounded reasonable, but there was something strange about how he said it. Moreover, the timing of this explanation bothered her. Shouldn't he have said this before already? Why bring it up now rather than then? "Why was he…or she there?"

The Professor folded his hands. "I run an institute for gifted young men and women, those that show excellence in their talents and intellect, and direct each student for bright and better futures. We live in a world where the talented and gifted are often forgotten in society, as young boys and girls feel pressured to conform to their peers when at school or anywhere else outside of their homes. While I understand their apprehension, their potential often sours as they fret under the judging eyes of their peers. Far too many young men and women live lives they shouldn't have to live, because they would not allow themselves to rise above their peers as their talents enable them to do. It's one of the greatest tragedies of our society."

Susan let the Professor's explanation digest in her head. It sounded like an odd goal, but she understood the Professor's concerns about young people. Peer pressure was a very real problem in schools. "How do you teach them?"

"Depending on their talents, we train and teach them how to properly use their respective gifts. We house them at the Institute, but they also attend a local high school within easy driving distance of the Institute. We arrange our curriculum to work with the school, so that upon graduation they will be ready to become who they were born to be. Some have even stayed on to teach others."

Susan continued to dwell on each explanation. This school was unlike anything she had ever heard of, but maybe private academies were the same way. They seemed to work well enough. "It seems wonderful, but…" Susan paused to find the right words. "…it sounds…I don't know how to describe it."

The Professor nodded understandingly. "I know what I'm sharing sounds unlike anything like you've ever heard, but I'm sure you understand the problem I seek to address. If I might assume anything, I believe you want your son Jason to succeed in what he is best in, correct?"

"Of course," Susan said.

"As do I; my goals coincide with most parents'. I merely teach to students what parents wish for their sons and daughters. So many of our young ones grow up with the mentality that they shouldn't have to rise up to discover themselves through their talents, but later in life find they wish they did, only to find their talents have died within them already. I believe it is our moral responsibility as adults to encourage our young ones to become the best at what they can be."

Susan felt herself relaxed in the light of the Professor's words; he made them sound like his personal catechism. Like the Professor had said already, it was one she could relate to; she hoped Jason would take full advantage of his knowledge in science and math. Whatever he would choose to use them for, she knew she would be proud of him. "It sounds like a wonderful idea, Professor…but what if your students don't agree with your curriculum?"

Professor Charles sighed slightly, as if talking about this was uncomfortable for him. "We don't force our students towards a particular path, and it has allowed a select few of our students to choose paths that I do not personally approve of. However, the Xavier Institute for Gifted Children doesn't force any agenda on any of our students. We are merely there to guide them down a path that can benefit both them and the people around them. What they choose to do is ultimately up to them."

Susan somehow figured that would be the case, but she felt more comfortable asking. All in all, it sounded wonderful as a private academy. "It sounds like a wonderful school…" Susan started. "…but this school…will Jason have to leave home to attend it?"

Professor Xavier leaned forward, and Susan saw a compassionate look in his eyes right away. "Yes. The Xavier Institute is in New York, on Long Island Sound. We accept students from all around the country and sometimes even beyond our borders. We don't turn down those of exceptional capability, no matter their origins. For more unfortunate or lesser fortunate families, I offer scholarships. There is no reason for us to turn away potential student for financial reasons."

Susan could barely believe that statement. She might have not known much about private academies, but she did know that all of them were expensive. "How can that be?"

The Professor smiled. "I was blessed with an inheritance from my family, and I have neither children nor benefactors to bestow it upon. I personally pay for each student's expenses with my own fortunes and investments, for our students are my investment and the world is the benefactor."

The Professor's poetry was not lost on Susan, and it sounded like it came from a movie. That in itself was disquieting, no matter how noble it was. "Excuse me for saying so, but that sounds almost too good to be true…"

The Professor leaned back. "I'm sure it does, but the truth often sounds stranger than fiction."

Susan did not look reassured.

The Professor continued. "Now, I need to be upfront about this: I understand that right now that Jason is in no condition to come, but I am merely extending the offer to you once he recovers. It must be a decision you all must make. If Jason is ready to come in August before the new school year, then we will be more than willing to take him in. If he must see specialists for anything, we have or can get access to the care he needs." The Professor took something out of his overcoat that looked like a brochure. "This brochure will tell you some more about the Institute as well as how to reach us."

Susan took the brochure and looked through it. "What a beautiful campus," she said as she admired the brochure. Her admiration was short-lived as she remembered what they had been talking about. "But I just can't send off my son off somewhere, especially now."

"And I fully understand that. We will never impose such a choice on anyone, circumstances regardless. As I have already stated, I'm merely inviting your son to become a part of something greater. I'm sure your son has already started considering colleges or universities, considering his performance at the Regionals."

Susan had to agree on that. Jason had already been exploring the possibility of attending Oklahoma State University in Engineering. He was also hoping that by summertime that he'd get a part-time job at a car shop to boost his knowledge in machinery. Jason was smart enough to start looking early, and even asked about taking the SAT before the fall. Perhaps this Institute would help his odds even more, plus there were several other facilities in New York that would be excellent choices for further education.

Again, her fears rose to the surface. The logical part of her mind was drowning in the flood of worry that surged through since last night. She couldn't consider sending Jason, even if Jason's education could soar. He was too hurt, and if the prognosis wasn't good, she couldn't send him off to deal with it alone. "Well, it sounds wonderful, Professor, but after all this, I don't think I can send my boy anywhere."

The Professor closed his eyes, as if telling himself to be patient. "If you're worried about medical issues in the future, I assure you, we not only have an excellent care staff, but New York also has one of the best neurological institutes in the country."

Susan frowned, and the Professor felt a rather hostile thought brush his mind._ "Does this man have an answer for everything?" _Aloud, Susan said. "Professor Xavier, with all due respect, but I right now don't care if you have the health care the Mayo Clinic dreams about. I can't send my boy there!"

The Professor was taken aback at her sudden outburst, but he couldn't blame her. Still, she was letting her fears conquer reason, and she didn't know what was at stake. "I did not mean to offend, Mrs. Downs. Just please consider what I'm offering."

Huffing, Susan stuffed the brochure curtly into her purse and stood up. "Good day, Professor," she said coldly, marching to the other side of the hall to the ICU, to see if her husband made any improvement.

The Professor merely set back, sighing. He was used to these kinds of reactions, but normally this kind of reaction happened _after_ mentioning that the child was a mutant. The Professor had hoped to inform the mother of Jason's powers, and that they were awakening and growing; even worse that they were growing in a hospital with almost no chance of secrecy. The Professor knew he couldn't give up now, perseverant that he was. After all, recruiting Kitty Pride from her Illinois residence was certainly a challenge, to both him and Jean who had come along. He would just have to come up with another way to approach the Downs family, ideally before the day was over.

It then occurred to him that if he could establish a telepathic link with Jason, he may be able to find out more about the previous night. It was possible that Jason had been awake for a period between the tornado and the time he was found by the Udall family, however short it was. Bringing his fingers to his temple, his mind flew out and searched for Jason. He was aware of the amount of people walking up and down the hall, but none paid him mind, for which he was thankful. Distractions were bad enough, even without a telepathic probe drifting through the hospital.

One by one, his mind surged through the psychic plane, deftly passing through other minds and energies. Like an internet search engine, he was looking for even the smallest of mentions of a young man severely injured in a tornado. As the thoughts returned, he sorted them through by relevance. So far, everything was either gossip or news-related, nothing useful. In seconds, Charles found one mind of a nurse who was just outside the radiology lab, her mind thinking about a young man matching Jason's description and a certain incident regarding melted rubber. The Professor recalled his psychic probe and focused on this nurse's mind, and instantly got a hit. For a brief window of time, a young man after a CT-test had been left alone to prepare the next test. While alone, something happened and he started screaming. The Professor dove into the actual memories: she, among others, saw that polyurethane had melted around this patient's palms completely missing the fingers. To calm the patient, sedatives were ordered by a Dr. Sontagg. The rubber was eventually removed and the burns were treated while under sedation.

Professor Charles frowned. Sedatives and other psychoactive substances clouded his ability to reasonably probe a mind. Even something simple as an over-the-counter sleeping medication often muddied the thoughts, making some thoughts undecipherable, unless the Professor dug deeper. Diving into murky waters was hazardous in itself, and the Professor would never risk such a dive into a compromised mind; any wrong move could be disastrous. The Professor relasxed, his mind returning back to his physical senses. Based on this new information, the Professor would have to wait until later to try to locate Jason and extract any information about last night.

On a whim, the Professor searched for Dr. Sontagg's mind to find any medical information on Jason. Immediately, he got a hit. Dr. Sontagg was examining MRI results from Jason's latest test, and the Professor could feel the doctor's mind lacing with worry as he examined the results. Before he could get additional information, the Professor discovered memories about the polyurethane that they had removed from Jason's hands: the doctor had given Jason two stress balls to help alleviate some severe pain in his hands. The next thing Dr. Sontagg remembered was seeing the rubber melted over Jason's hands, mildly burning them. More importantly, the doctor thought he had seen some kind of energy discharge, something like green electricity.

The Professor withdrew as soon as he saw that memory. Green electricity, just like on the car that was bent backwards shown on the news. There it was; a clue, one small clue to what power lies within Jason. What kind of power would have that kind of signature? The Professor leaned back, his mind racing for possible explanations. Judging by the crude news footage of the vehicle, and the memories of the two melted stress balls, Jason's power seemed to be a powerful of superheating. The Professor closed his eyes; that cannot be right. He remembered that most polyurethane rubber is treated to resist melting, although it can melt but only at very high temperatures, temperatures that would have practically vaporized Jason's flesh in seconds. If he was capable of such a feat, his mutant adaptation would have been able to protect his flesh from that. There was no record of any mutant whose powers directly harmed the mutant. Jason's power was something else, something that could cause melting of substances or—

It hit him. Jason's power wasn't melting at all; it was changing shape, rearranging its matter at the molecular level, possibly even the atomic level. It was almost insane to think about it; but not completely unheard of. The Professor had been acquainted with one mutant, a metamorph of exceptional shape-shifting abilities, but that was limited to only her own body. Even so, she could rearrange her flesh to mimic even the most extravagant of clothing. Perhaps Jason's power was in fact metamorphism of matter, albeit with side-effects: that green energy. What was it exactly, and what role was it playing? Entropic, perhaps? Once he got back to the Institute, he and Dr. McCoy must look into this at once.

The Professor felt a familiar mind approaching: Dr. Sontagg's. Xavier looked up to see the doctor himself coming up to Susan Downs, possibly to share the results of the latest tests. Keeping still, he listened intently.

Dr. Sontagg spoke first. "Mrs. Downs?"

Susan Downs, still cooling down after the conversation she had with the Professor, jumped slightly. "Oh, sorry, Doctor. Is my son okay?"

The Professor could see a slight shift in Dr. Sontagg's stance; he might have noticed how flustered Susan was but was working to not bring attention to it. "We've done all the testing and we are moving Jason to a room outside the ICU. I'll take you there now."

Susan tensed more. "Is my son all right?"

Dr. Sontagg dodged the question. "I'd rather discuss that with both you and Jason. Come, I will take you to his room."

Even the Professor felt a chilling foreboding from the doctor, and that was enough for the Professor to know that something was dearly wrong, and time was now of the essence. Returning one finger on his head, he telepathically paged, _"Jean, has Storm returned with the photographs yet?"_

Jean's thoughts were quick to reach him. _"She has just arrived and we have looked over them. Professor, you must see these."_

"_Bring them to me. I'm at the ICU. I fear Jason is in trouble. We must act quickly, or he may become unreachable."_

"_I'm on the way, Professor."_

The Professor relaxed, allowing his gaze to follow after Susan Downs and Dr. Sontagg. He took one last glimpse into the doctor's mind and found Jason's room number: 252. If they timed this right, they could come into the room after Susan would inevitably leave to check on Patrick back down in the ICU.

As he waited for Jean, he failed to notice that a nurse from down the hall had been keeping her eye on him…a venom-yellow eye.

XXXXXXXXXX

Jason's fingers felt through the gauze that now wrapped around both of his hands, and it itched horribly. After the burns were treated, the nurses had wrapped both Jason's hands up while he was still under sedation. Nothing happened during the EEG, but the urge to panic was persistent, and what puzzled him was that he didn't know why. Nearby lay the two casts of rubber, after being cut from his hands—the nursing staff wasn't sure what to do with them. Every time he looked at them, his depression grew. The world was shattering all around him and he was helpless to stop it, and all it took was one horrible night.

As a swirl of thoughts swayed their deadly dance in his head, he was becoming increasingly aware of the heart monitor with its ever incessant beeps. He looked away as the beeping continued unabated, each one seemingly louder than the other. There was the sound of the air conditioner blowing through the vents as well. The cool air was welcome, but the dull rushing of the air was loud. A fly streaked through the air in front of him, and he could even hear its buzzing wings. Then came the thumps of his own heart, dancing in tune with the beeps of the monitor. He had to shut his eyes. The world was too noisy for him, and peace was elusive despite the monotony of the din. He sighed; was there no end?

"_Jason?"_

The din died as Jason's eyes shot open. He didn't dare to move as he listened for what shattered the monotony from which he was suffering. "Hello?" he dared to say quietly.

"_Jason?"_

Jason's sat up, his eyes shooting around wildly. "Who's there?" Jason asked, but this time silence was his answer. Soon, the dull thumping of his heart bled back into his ears. He rubbed his chest without meaning to. Was it pumping that hard or was he just hearing it overmuch? He looked at the heart monitor. Blood pressure looked normal enough, and while his heart-rate went up a bit, it was still normal.

His eyes shot open when he realized that he wasn't hearing the beeping of the monitor. He could see the graphs working and the numbers translating the results, but there wasn't a single sound. He slowly reached out for the device and tapped it once or twice, very carefully as if trying to check if it was asleep. He then tapped harder, and then finally rapped it with the knuckles of his finger. He felt like the rap echoed through his own body in finality, but there was still no beep. "What the fuck?" he barely whispered.

"_Jason?" _

Jason looked around wildly. "Who is that? Who are you?!"

"_Don't be afraid."_

The direct answer jarred Jason to his bones, and his heart began to race. "Stop it," Jason panted.

"_Stay calm!"_ Another voice, higher and softer, joined in. _"We aren't here to hurt you…"_

"Stop it!" Jason cried out. "Stop playing around and show yourself!"

"Calm yourself, Jason. You'll hurt yourself!"

Jason was about to answer again, but something about the voice bounced off of him in a different way. The voices were too clear and too close. He was alone here, and if someone was behind the curtain or outside the hall, they would sound different. It was then Jason realized that the voices were in his head. Jason clawed frenziedly at his head. "Shut up! Shut up!"

"_Jason, please! Calm down!"_

"_Do as she says, Jason. You're still hurt from the tornado—" _

Jason's eyes flashed open, but what he saw wasn't the room, but a highway, and there was a churning cloud coming to devour him. Jason could only stare as his fingers burned and his blood froze as the cloud descended upon him. Tears streaming from his eyes, he cried out as he clasped his hands against his head, "GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" He felt a rush from deep within him boil over and he threw down his hands. Green bolts of lightning banished the nightmare from his eyes, and Jason returned to the hospital room. Jason stared gasping, unsure of what he just felt and what had just happened. All he could do was just stare and gasp.

_Beep!_ Jason jumped as the heart monitor told him about the condition of his heart. He looked at ir wildly, and he felt a warm wash of nausea hit his head. Grasping the bedrail for support, he fought it off and dared to open his eyes again. He saw his heart was slowing down and his blood pressure was dropping, but back to safe levels, and the heart monitor chirped along as if nothing had happened.

Something new came to his attention: a strange smell, something a little musty…like something was burning. At once he looked at his blanket, and then swore; somehow, his blanket gathered itself up onto its lap into a pile, fused together at parts as if someone melted them together. The occasional stray bolt of energy only amplified Jason's confusion and fear. "What's going on here? What's happening to me? What the hell did I just do?" he asked, each question coming from deeper within and bursting out louder than the next.

One hand flew to his head, and he accidentally slapped himself on the injured side of his face. Pain lanced across his face as if he had torn his own face off. He laid back down as he rubbed his head as fresh tears streamed forth. As he lay there silently crying, he couldn't help but ask the unanswerable questions. His eyes slowly fell to the mess of a blanket on his lap, and even through the pain and fatigue in his mind, a horrifying thought shot to the surface: what if Mom came in and saw it? Pain and fatigue forgotten, he stared at the mess on his chest as his mind raced. What if she saw it and pegged him as a freak? What would she think? What would she do? Hastily, he picked it up and tossed it over the side, landing near the wall and partially hidden by the divider. Now away from sight, he laid back and tried to get it out of mind.

Just then, a nurse came running in. "What's wrong? I heard you scream!"

Jason nearly jumped out of his gown when he heard the nurse speak. Calming himself, he answered as his mind returned to the lump in the divider. "It's…it was nothing. I…fell asleep and had a bad dream, I think…" Jason lied. The nurse didn't reply, and only looked at him as if she knew that something else was up. Jason instinctively looked away. "I don't want to talk about it!" he shouted defensively.

The nurse didn't look convinced, but decided not to press the issue. "All right, but please, try to rest."

Jason didn't move, but his empty stomach compelled him to speak. "Any chance I'll have something to eat soon?"

The nurse's skeptical look quickly turned compassionate. "The doctor must approve it. There may be a chance you may undergo another surgery, and we cannot have you eat before then."

"For what?" Jason asked irritably.

"I don't know…"

Jason huffed. "Figures."

"The doctor will be in as soon as he can, but for now, try to rest." With that, the nurse left.

"Easy for you to say…" Jason mumbled, even though the nurse was out of earshot. His gaze shot through the nearby window, staring sourly at the peaceful weather outside. All he could do now is brood, and brood he did. It was bad enough that he and his father both were nearly killed by a tornado, but now he was plagued by voices in his head and some freaky curse that could melt rubber and blankets apparently. Was he some kind of freak, or was he losing it?

Time was meaningless to a brooding teenager; he had no idea how long he stared at the window, lost in his own thoughts and frustrations. He was so wrapped up in himself that he didn't notice a quiet knock at his door. When his name was called, however, he nearly jumped out of his bed. Several things happened at once: Jason snapped to see the intruder, Dr. Sontagg and Jason's mother, Susan, nearly jumped themselves seeing Jason's surprised look, and Jason collapsed back into his bed after the sudden move aggravated his injured face.

Seeing Jason collapse down in terrible pain, Dr. Sontagg and Susan Downs quickly entered the room, the latter immediately came beside Jason. "Are you all right, Jason?"

Dr. Sontagg added. "Please, Jason, you must move slowly. Any brisk movement like that could re-open your wound."

Jason pursed his lips, hissing. "I know that _now_…and I think that's the least of my concerns."

Patiently, Dr. Sontagg answered, "Nevertheless, you must take things slowly for a while. We removed the brace you were in because no spinal injury was found; however, we will put it back on if you're not more careful with your head, am I clear?"

Jason grimaced at the thought of another minute in the stiff and itchy neck-brace. "Sorry…"

Dr. Sontagg relaxed. "How do you feel, son? Do you still feel that zapping sensation in your fingers?"

Jason stiffened. He remembered that Dr. Sontagg had not only seen what happened to the stress balls in Jason's hands, but gave them to him himself. Could the doctor have found out about his new problem?

Dr. Sontagg noted the delay. "Jason?"

Jason seemed to snap awake. "Oh-uh-sorry…" Trying to calm down, Jason did the first thing he could think of: answer only the questions and nothing else, and don't ask questions. Jason peered down to his bound hands. "Yeah…" Dr. Sontagg didn't look surprised, and Jason felt his heart race. Jason silently cursed the heart monitor for its betrayal of his anxiety.

The doctor asked on, "What about lightheadedness? Nausea? Headaches?"

"Well, yeah, a little bit, I guess." Jason looked like the doctor just asked if the sun was in the sky, and he couldn't help himself. "Ok, what's going on here?"

Dr. Sontagg crossed his arms. "A little bit?"

Jason grew aggravated. "Wha—? What's going on?"

Susan interrupted. "Jason, please answer the question."

Jason regarded his adoptive mother for a short second, and calmed down. Rubbing his eyes, he continued more quietly. "I-I'm sorry. I guessed I'm a little freaked out right now."

Dr. Sontagg didn't look offended. "It's all right. The questions I'm answering are vital to future treatment, so please be honest."

Jason looked at his mother, looking in her eyes to find any clue that might let on that his mother knew something he did not, but even she looked bothered. Looking back at the doctor, he finally answered, "Not really nauseous, but I do have a nasty headache."

"How bad?"

Jason couldn't help it; he chuckled grimly. "Like I got attacked with a baseball bat."

Dr. Sontagg didn't reply at first, but the ugly way his mouth twisted in thought roused Jason's suspicions. Susan, however, beat him to the question they both had on their minds. "Please, doctor, what's wrong with my son?"

The doctor sighed, rubbing his eyes und his glasses. "Jason is showing signs of severe intracranial trauma from last night…" The doctor paused to see if Jason would react to that memory. While Jason looked disturbed, he didn't show any signs of sinking into another attack. Satisfied, he continued, "…and judging from the CT scans and EEG readings, it's significant." Dr. Sontagg pulled out the CT graphs of Jason's brain. Using a pen, he pointed out the areas of interest, highlighted in gadolinium-white. "Right here, we have significant pressure buildup from intracranial swelling, obviously caused by the blunt-force trauma." His expression turned grim. "However, there's more. See these white dots? These are a number of hematomas intermingling with the meninges, the grey matter of the brain. Judging by the degree of buildup within the past twelve hours, I'm afraid some are subdural hematomas."

Jason felt something solidify in his stomach. "What does that mean?"

"A subdural hematoma is a cerebral hemorrhage: a bleed inside the brain. Subdural ones are among the more dangerous hemorrhages that can occur. Unabated, the bleeds will continue to grow and add even more pressure to your already-injured brain. We must go in and drain the blood from inside your skull immediately, or the increased pressure will kill you in a matter of hours."

Susan paled, while Jason merely stared. He was that close to dying? His racing heary made his headache worse, and probably wasn't helping his prognosis any. "What are my odds?"

Susan rounded on Jason, tearfully shouting. "Don't you even say that, young man!"

Jason, taken aback by his mother's reaction, looked back at his mother. "Mom, I'm not giving up. I just want to know what I'm up against." Jason then looked at Dr. Sontagg, asking his question again silently.

"Without surgery? Sixty percent or more, so that's not an option. If we start within the hour, your chances dramatically go down, but I'd say it lingers to between fifteen and twenty percent."

"One-in-five at worst," Jason said automatically. "I wish it was better, but I don't have a choice." Despite the affirmation, his mother still looked worried sick. Jason took his mother's hand into his own wrapped one. "Mom, it's okay."

"I know," Susan said, tearfully. "Please, just do your best, Doctor."

"Always," Dr. Sontagg replied firmly but compassionately, but then his expression darkened still. "That's not all, however."

Now Jason paled. "What do you mean?"

Dr. Sontagg looked serious at Jason. "While the hemorrhages explain your headaches and lightheadedness, hematomas rarely cause neuropathies as significant like the ones in your hands. We think that the hematomas could also be doing something else besides pressure build-up."

Jason and Susan looked at each other again. The fact that Jason had a sixty percent chance to die from the bleeds was bad enough. What else was going on? Jason swallowed, his mouth feeling suddenly dry. "What?"

"Increased pressure is the direct danger caused by hematomas, but I'm sure you know that your blood contains lymphatic cells in addition to your red blood cells. These lymphatic cells will try to destroy damaged cells as part of their programmed immune response. Since nerve damage is certain in your case, your cells will try to destroy those. Your neuropathies would get progressively worse.

"Progressive?" Jason asked, his heart starting to race. "How?"

"Around the brain, there is a blood-brain barrier that keeps lymphatic cells outside the brain, unless there is an infection within the brain and only then. However, in some cases like a hemorrhage, this barrier is breached, which causes T-lymphocytes to invade the brain, and they start attacking the individual neurons, particularly the fatty tissue around the cell which contains myelin. Myelin is considered foreign to T-lymphocytes and it will strip the myelin sheaths from the neurons. When this tissue is stripped away, pain and neuropathies occur and lesions appear in the affected areas. The result is a degenerative condition known as multiple sclerosis."

The silence was deafening at the doctor's tidings. Jason was so stunned that it felt like time froze itself. Finally, his mind caught up with him. "Me? Multiple sclerosis? I-I…b-but I thought multiple sclerosis was a _disease_, caused by something else, not an injury."

Dr. Sontagg's expression softened with pity. "Typically, yes. People that get multiple sclerosis most often get it through an infection that weakens the walls of the blood-brain barrier. However, multiple sclerosis is just one disease of a group of sclerotic diseases and disorders. There are some select versions that are caused by a hemorrhage, particularly small ones that are too small to find in the CT, which almost never get detected by scans as they are so small. Yet, they leak a small amount of blood and whatever is in the blood. In your case, with your brain already injured and having the amount of bleeds that you have, your odds magnify greatly.

"In this case, it's called Charcot's Syndrome, one of many multiple sclerotic diseases or disorders. Beginning symptoms often include mood swings, headaches, fatigue, spasms and pain in the muscles and shocking sensations in the extremities. Eventually, the disorder becomes an autoimmune disease as the effects strengthen and spread. Eventually, we may see seizures, chronic depression or bipolar disorder, loss of motor control or paralysis, and shocking pain throughout the body."

"You mean…it's going to hurt…a lot?" Jason asked. He heard himself say it, but he still couldn't believe it.

Dr. Sontagg sighed. "Yes. As I said, stripping the myelin sheaths can cause severe pain. This is compared to stripping the insulation of a power cord, which increases the likelihood of a short circuit. In response, the exposed cellular tissue is ultra-sensitive, and it causes pain."

Susan stifled a sob there and then, while Jason remained silent.

"As Charcot's Syndrome continues to progress, we will see incontinence, difficulty swallowing, and paraplegia or quadriplegia: paralysis of the legs or more in the case of quadriplegia. The average life-span of someone diagnosed with Charcot's Syndrome is cut by 10-20 years, which means barring any death by complications, Jason may live into his 60s."

Jason blinked, and could only say weakly, "So…I'm already a third of the way through my life."

"You could live even longer with proper treatment. All we can do currently is drain the brain of the blood and excess fluid that is the immediate danger. During the surgery, we will place a shunt in your brain to drain more of the blood out before more damage occurs…but we likely won't catch all of it. We will need to continue monitoring your neuropathies to see if they get worse or fade, or if new ones appear. After you leave the hospital, we will get you in touch with a specialist that handles these kinds of problems, as well as keep you in touch with various programs that might make this easier. Charcot's Syndrome is a remitting-relapsing disorder; between attacks, Jason will have a remission of undeterminable time where nothing seems wrong."

Dr. Sontagg remained silent for a time. "I want to make this perfectly clear: I'm only telling the worst-case scenario. There's still a chance that Jason may never develop Charcot's Syndrome. Realistically though, with Jason's current neuropathies, it may have already begun. If it is something else that is causing it, odds are that it will be very treatable, and I will be very happy to be proven wrong,"

Dr. Sontagg placed the CT-readouts back into their folder. "I'm scheduling the surgery one hour from now. Until then, you need to take your rest, Jason, and be very calm. You won't be able to eat anything before the surgery, I'm sad to say, but we can provide water if you are thirsty. I wish we could do more. The nurses will be by to take you to surgery. Please rest." The doctor took the folder and left the room.

Jason was completely silent. Nothing in the world prepared him for this, but what would? In just five minutes, he went from brooding boredom to shell-shocked emptiness. Even if he made it through surgery, odds were he would still live only to die a painful death. It just wasn't fair.

His mother couldn't stand it; how could she? Jason heard her crying without really listening. As his mind withdrew itself deeply inside his broken skull, it flashed to that fateful night again, and one again Jason saw the face of his father again trying to get him out of the car. This time, it didn't scare him. All he could do was stare at himself fighting to stay alive. Jason couldn't help but see the cruel joke of it; he saw himself fighting to live, and he was going to die anyway. It was all a stupid joke.

For one quick moment, he wished the tornado had killed him in the car, but it didn't help. All that would have done was making his end painless; even that wasn't certain. Even if that did happen, there would still be sorrow. He said he would fight this, but how can you fight something like that when your own body was fighting itself and losing?

His gaze slowly drifted out the window and to the sky again. He wanted someone to save him from this fate, but there was nobody to save him from this. In his mind, he was doomed to die. What about his father? Would his father die as well and leave his mother and sister all alone?

The tears came easy after that.


	4. Chapter 3: Helping Hand

**CHAPTER 3:**** Helping Hand**

* * *

><p>Jean and Professor Xavier were waiting reasonably far away, yet thanks to the Professor, they were both able to mentally identify Jason. The Professor had already reasoned before that Jason's mind was fragile from the accident, but wasn't sure how fragile. Both Jean and the Professor discovered just how bad.<p>

"I've never felt someone panic so much like that…" Jean said concernedly. "I feel bad for prying in."

"In retrospect, it may have been a bad idea to probe his thoughts, but I was able to sense something: he has already discovered that his body is undergoing a transformation beyond his injuries. His reaction to it is typical of everyone who discovers their mutant powers: fear, self-loathing and shock. This may be a prime opportunity for you to step in and alleviate his fears?"

Jean wasn't expecting that. "Me? Why just me?"

"Right now, Jason needs someone to talk to alone, someone to confide in with his secret. Jason may view you as someone who can be trusted, especially if you introduce yourself and your powers carefully…no pressure."

Jean laughed nervously. "And to think the thing I was worrying about last night was the lack of a topic for my current events assignment. But why am I going alone? Why not Scott, or even you?"

"If Jason's mother would come in and see me, she would force us out and further cut off Jason from us. However, if she saw you, she may not be so quick, particularly if you are careful. My attempts to convince the mother had her label me as an opportunist…of course, I can see how such a label is fitting."

"Don't be down on yourself, Professor," Jean said reassuringly. "You only take the opportunity to help other mutants, not for yourself."

"I know, Jean…but thank you, just the same."

"Well, that explains you, but what about Scott?"

"While Scott would be a good choice for recruiting any other candidate, this one requires a more…deft touch."

Jean again laughed, understandingly this time. "Oh yes, I should have known that…. When should I go in?"

"Wait until the doctor and his mother leave." The Professor's eyes went distant. Jean knew the look: the Professor's mind was reading someone else's. The Professor's eyes suddenly dilated and he snapped back into the real world.

Jean noticed right away. "What happened?"

"It's Jason. The doctor just gave him a preliminary prognosis on his injuries…and it isn't good."

"What is it?"

"I…" The Professor hesitated. Jason's fate seemed to be a dark one if it was true. "Pardon me, it's a bit much to take in."

Jean felt her heart freeze, and she didn't need to read minds to feel that it must be terrible. "Is he…all right?"

"For now, but he may not be years down the road." The Professor sighed. "You will find about this eventually…but Jason appears to have Charcot's Syndrome, a disorder that mimics multiple sclerosis."

Jean was stunned, but something didn't seem to fit. "But I thought multiple sclerosis was a disease triggered by an infection…"

"In some cases, yes. However, there are a few select disorders which follow the same path as multiple sclerosis, which may be triggered by stress or a pre-existing autoimmune condition; in Jason's case, a traumatic brain injury. The injury he received from the tornado must have caused hemorrhages that have caused his immune responders to become trapped within the brain, which eventually would cause multiple sclerosis. In short…Jason may die in agony."

Jean gasped. She was right, this was terrible. "But…that's so unfair!"

"So it seems," the Professor said reverently. "However, it isn't up to us to decide what is fair or no. We may call something fair or no, but it doesn't change anything. It happened…and in Jason's case, a tragedy."

Jean looked down sadly. "I feel sorry for Jason…I wish I can help…"

"As do we all, but there is only one way we can help him out now, and that's with his newfound power."

"Professor, now that Jason has heard what he thinks is his death sentence, he may not want to help us after all. He may want to stay with his family all the more now…" "_If he doesn't kill himself first…,"_ Jean thought.

"_Which is why it's all the more imperative that we act before Jason does something drastic."_ "That is possible, but if we reach out to him and offer a helping hand, he may not be so quick to shut himself from the world. If his injury-related disease causes his power to become completely out of control, he may kill himself as well as the others all around him."

Jean suddenly remembered that the accident that Scott suffered may have played a hand in taking away Scott's control of his optic blasts, despite the fact his powers had not manifested back then. In Jason's case, this scenario grew more and more likely as time progressed. "You're right. We must try."

"Good." The Professor's eyes went distant again, and Jean patiently waited. Very quickly, the Professor looked at Jean. "His mother has left the room, and is heading to the ICU. This is your chance, Jean, but be careful. Jason may be wavering between many feelings right now, so be prepared."

"I'll try, Professor."

"No, Jean," the Professor sternly said. "You can't just try. You must succeed, or Jason's fate may very well be in jeopardy."

"_I hate it when everything depends on me…,"_ Jean thought. Without another word, she left the Professor's side and strode determinedly down the hall. She scanned each number on the door, searching for the one that led to Jason's room. As she walked, she felt the butterflies fly around in her stomach. With that, her mind flashed to the last time she went solo to recruit another candidate for the Institute: Kitty Pride. In October of last year, during midterms, the Professor and she had gone to Deerfield, Illinois to recruit Kitty. Kitty had staunchly resisted, as did her parents at first. Jean had vivid memories at how she had a lot of trouble trying to convince Kitty, as Kitty had tried to shut down Jean's offer, despite Kitty knowing she in fact believed Jean for what she said. Kitty was just too afraid. However, after dealing with a seismic-happy mutant by the name of Lance Alvers at the school, Kitty relented. Jean had a hunch that Jason's reactions would closely mimic Kitty's if she wasn't careful. Who knew what defenses Jason has thrown up around him by now?

As she travelled down the hallways, she espied a woman coming down the hallway, and she looked like she had been crying. Something in Jean's head claimed that this woman was Jason's mother, leaving the room after hearing the prognosis about Jason. Instantly, her heart ached for his mother. No mother should ever have to deal with a son who may be dying, and no parent should ever have to bury their child.

Jean willed the tears that were welling up to dissipate as the two women drew closer. Some voice in Jean's heart said to go try to comfort her, but Jean's head was staying to stay on the objective. Time was of the essence, after all. But how could she just pass by someone who is crying, even if she did not know the reason? It seemed heartless to just pass her by, but then there was Jason. The more she waited, the bigger the chance Jason will alienate himself.

As the mother closed in, Jean made the quick decision that a quick greeting probably wouldn't hurt. She looked at the mother. "Are you all right?"

Susan didn't even see Jean as she was going to the ICU, so upon hearing Jean, she looked up startled. "Oh, I'm so sorry, young lady. I—I wasn't looking where I was going…"

Jean understood perfectly, and offered a hand. "It's okay. Are you all right, ma'am?"

The mother took the hand. "Please, call me Susan."

"Jean. Is there anything I can do?"

Susan dabbed her eyes with a tissue that looked like it has seen a lot of tears. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's just…" Susan paused to sniff. "…I'm dealing with a lot of things right now…"

Jean pressed the issue automatically. "Do you need to talk about it?"

Susan shook her head briefly. "No, I just need to see my husband—" Susan's eyes went distant, and she somehow got an idea. "—I—there might be something I can ask you…but I can't ask you to do that."

Now Jean was intrigued. What could she possibly ask, and would it gain her access to Jason? "What can I do?"

Susan dabbed her eyes again. "Can you…talk to my boy? He's taking this really hard…"

Jean nearly face-faulted; this was almost too good to be true. She had to slow down her mind to respond. "Is it all right?"

Susan nodded tearfully. "I know it's a strange request, and I don't even know why I'm asking you…but…I don't want to leave him alone, but I need to see my husband. Maybe…talking to someone close to his age…may relax him. He won't talk to me after he heard the news?"

Jean decided to play dumb. "What happened?"

"I'm sorry, but I have to go see my husband. If you can talk to Jason, see if he can tell you."

Jean was still processing this strange request, but she couldn't afford to make her wait. "Ok."

Susan sighed, relieved. "Thank you, Jean," she said. "Please, see if you can talk to him." With that, Susan went down the hall, leaving Jason, a tad confused.

Something didn't make sense. Why would Susan just trust her to talk to her own son like Jean was family? And why was she so quick to make such an—It hit Jean right out of the blue. Sighing, he opened a door in her mind. "_Professor…?"_

The Professor responded the same way. "_What is it, Jean?"_

"_Jason's mother had just offered to let me into Jason's room, even though I'm a complete stranger. I find that fishy."_

"_Why is that?" _

"_Professor_," Jean thought sternly. "_She's letting a complete stranger into her son's room to talk. Why would she do that?"_

"_Desperation, most likely. Do not underestimate the overwhelmed feelings of a distressed mother. Right now, Susan Downs is self-conflicted in light of the prognosis for Jason. Right now, she is torn between staying with her son, or checking in on her husband, who likely is still in a coma. When it seems she gets a hope, it is knocked away by the pendulum swing back into doubt. She cannot handle both her husband and her son at the same time. So, in a desperate move, she reaches for the first hand that comes out to offer help. In this case, yours."_

Jean stopped to think about that briefly. "_Yes, I suppose that makes sense, but isn't that still a little fast?"_

"_Jean, I cannot say there is a degree on how fast a reaction such as that which makes it merit or no. However, if the mother has accepted your offer to help by giving you that permission, you should not question. Now, you are obliged to go in there and talk to Jason, for her sake. You made a good choice to stop to console her, Jean."_

Jean looked down._ "I didn't do it for getting access to Jason, Professor…"_

"_I know…but that olive branch has opened a door that may have been forever shut. Now's our chance. Please, Jean. Be careful with Jason. I sense that he's sinking into despair. Go, Jean, draw him out. He needs help now more than ever…"_

"_All right_," Jean thought, and then proceeded down the hall, feeling the butterflies intensify.

Not long after, Jean reached the room. She didn't enter right away, but instead peered away. She on the far end of the room near the window a young man. While being covered only by a bed sheet and bandages covering portions of his head, arms and body made him look beaten up, Jean thought his demeanor was the worst thing she saw in Jason. She has never seen someone look so dejected and so withdrawn than the way Jason looked right now, and it broke her heart.

She watched Jason silently but concernedly. Minus his opening and closing of hands, he barely moved. Jason's gaze went out the window, and Jean was sure that Jason wasn't watching anything in particular. She had seen that pleading look before: she did it herself when her own powers evolved, questioning why what she had thought was a curse had happened to her? However, she felt that Jason had two reasons to question fate: his powers…and his mortality.

Jason soon closed his eyes, tighter than normal, and his head turned farther away. Jean listened as he let out a sigh, and she was convinced he was crying. The time was now. Jean knocked quietly on the door. Jason made no acknowledgement that he heard the knock, so she tried again. Still no change. Jean sighed herself, before she managed to say, "Jason?" Jason snapped his neck Jean's direction and rose up just as fast. Two things happened at once: Jean physically jumped at Jason's reaction, and Jason froze, holding his head as the snapping of his neck upset his facial injury. His face grimaced at the sudden shock of pain. As he slowly lowered back into the bed, gasping as the dizziness did it work, Jean recomposed herself. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you…"

Jason didn't answer right away; he merely lay gasping with his right hand pressed against the injured side of his head.

Jean grew concerned. "Do you need me to find a nurse?"

"No," Jason managed to moan. "I've just been…so jumpy lately." He peered at the door to see a slim figure of a woman with long red hair looking at him with compassion. She was wearing a faded-pink sweater and khaki pants. She didn't look like a nurse, so what was she doing here? "Do…I know you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself. I'm Jean, Jean Grey."

Jason still looked confused, but replied. "Jason. Jason Downs. Hey, I don't mean to be rude, but…why are you here?"

Jean sighed mentally. "_So much for the small talk approach. I guess I'll have to work into letting him know of his power."_ "It's…kind of a strange story. Correction: complicated."

If Jason could look even more confused, he would have, because he certainly was very confused. "What do you mean?"

"Let's just say that I'm here for a…mixture of reasons."

Jason didn't say anything, but merely stared. Jean willed herself to keep her gaze locked at Jason, but it wasn't easy. The air between them thickened like pea soup as neither said a word, and it was soon getting on Jean's nerves. Finally, Jason said something. "Maybe you should start at the beginning."

Something in Jean's mind said this was a small triumph. Jason is now curious. She entered the room slowly and passively, but said, "May I sit down?"

"You said yourself it was a long story," Jason said reasonably. "Can you stand up that long?" Jason managed a weak smile.

Jean was encouraged by the smile, seeing it as a good sign. Sitting down in a vacant chair, she began, "Well, first of all, I saw the news feed of the…" Jean paused to choose the word carefully. "'accident' last night. It's a miracle that you're even talking to me…"

Jason sniffed. "Yeah, so they keep telling me. I don't feel very lucky _or_ blessed right now though."

Jean was genuinely surprised. "Why do you say that? You're alive!"

"It's not that! I'm glad I'm alive, but…" Jason cut himself off.

Jean waited a few seconds before pushing. "But what?"

Jason merely shook his head. "You wouldn't understand."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Why should you? You don't know what I've been through…"

"Talk to me, and help me understand, Jason."

Jason looked fiercely at Jean, who involuntarily leaned back. "So, do you think you can understand being chewed up and spat out by a tornado with your own Dad being torn to shreds nearby? Do you think you can understand that even if I recover from my injuries, just maybe, _just maybe_, I'll die a slow and painful death?" Jason's voice worked up to venom-spewing intensity. "Do you think that you understand being…" Jason drew a breath, but held it. He glanced to the lump of cloth hiding near the curtain very briefly and abruptly turned away.

Jean picked up right on his alarm, and looked herself. "Jason, why did you throw your blanket away?"

Jason continued to ignore Jean's gaze. It was almost like she was reading his mind. "I don't need it."

Jean looked at the blanket, but had a hard time seeing it because of the divider curtain that split the room from one booth to another. It seemed to her that it was wadded up like a wet tissue and tossed aside. If Jason didn't need the blanket, would he had wadded it up like that and tossed it aside? Jean was suspicious, but decided not to pursue the matter. "You might be right, Jason. I may never understand the pain you are feeling right now, but you don't have to bear it alone. Your mother wants to help you, and friends can help you."

Jason sniffed angrily. "How would you know?"

"Because…it was your mother that asked me to come see you…" Jean said. "She's worried about you, and not just for your injuries. She asked me to talk to you because you weren't taking it well."

While Jean said that, Jason slowly looked back at Jean. While Jason was puzzled, she saw a glimmer of gratitude. Still, Jason had to ask. "Why would she ask you? Do you…know my mother?"

"No, I just ran into her in the hall. She was…upset, and kept talking about her husband." Jean noticed that his gaze had broken off from her again at her mention of husband. "Jason?"

"I don't even know how my Dad is doing. I don't even know if he's dead or alive." Jason slowly brought his face into his hands in silent grieving. "Why can't you tell me, Mom!"

Jean thought quickly, and placed a hand on his shoulder, careful to avoid any bandages. "I don't know why she couldn't tell you, and if I knew anything, I would think you would want to know and tell you. But, right now, she's torn up from seeing both you and your father the way he is. You have to believe me, she was heartbroken to leave you like this; she didn't want to leave you, but she felt like she had to. She felt at rest somewhat to know that you have someone to talk you. Right now, I believe your mother just wants you to worry about you. I know I'm stating the obvious, but you have been hurt very badly right now, as well as being very confused."

Jason tearfully looked at Jean. "You got that right. There's so much crap in my life right now that I don't know what's worse: all this…" Jason motioned to the bandages. "…what's in my head right now, or this curse I have."

Jean blinked. "Curse?"

Jason blanched, and then swore.

Jean saw this as an opportunity to find out more about the issue. _"Professor,"_ Jean telepathically paged. _"I think I'm close to Jason spilling the beans about his power. You may want to listen in, as it were."_

"_Acknowledged,"_ the Professor.

Jean could sense that the Professor was chuckling. Jean smiled briefly, and then said aloud. "Jason, do you think you're cursed by something?" Jason buttoned it. He didn't even grace Jean with a look. Jean's mind flashed back to the blanket, the one Jason tried to pretend wasn't there. Jean glanced at it wordlessly, and then looked at Jason, then back at the blanket. She then got up and reached for the blanket.

Jason noticed her right away, and immediately reached out and grabbed her hand. "Leave it alone!"

Jean looked at Jason sternly. "What's the matter with it?"

Jason made a sound as if he was about to say something, but changed his mind. Quickly, he just said. "Please, just leave it alone!"

Jean closed her eyes. "Jason, you can trust me. If you did something to the blanket, you don't need to hide it from me."

Jason involuntarily jumped. He smiled nervously as he spoke, "Did something? What makes you think I _did_ something to it?"

Jean smiled. "If you didn't do something to it, then why are you acting so guilty?"

Jason blanched, and then embarrassingly looked away, looking just like a kid whose hand got caught in the cookie jar. Letting go of Jean's arm, he relented, "I…I don't know what I did to it."

One of Jean's eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean?"

"I…" Jason struggled to explain. "It's like I said, I don't know what I did to it!"

Jean sat back down, thinking. _"At least I got him to admit something different. Maybe I should show him that's he's not alone."_ "Jason, can you watch me for a second?"

Jason looked at Jean with a confused expression. "Ok…but what are you going to do?"

"Just watch…" Jean looked at the blanket. "…and see."

Jean's eyes narrowed and her eyebrows sank as she concentrated. Raising one hand, she reached out to the blanket. Jason watched closely, but soon was distracted by the curtain shuffling. He turned to look and nearly swore. Slowly but surely, the blanket rose into the air with unseen force. Jason looked at Jean, who didn't look at all perturbed by the floating blanket. Amazed, Jason watched on. Jean moved the blanket telekinetically through the air, and had to lower into Jason's lap. Jason was frozen as the deformed blanket fell into his lap. Jean relaxed her posture and waited for Jason's inevitable response.

Jason's mouth had become incredibly dry by witnessing such a display, and he had to swallow several times before speaking. "How…did you do that?"

"The same way you can do what you can do," Jean said plainly.

Jason looked confused. "And what is it that I can do?"

Jean smiled. "The thing is, I never saw what could do this." Jean grasped the folds of the blanket and tried to undo it, but was surprised to see that parts of it had fused together. "However, I think we may be able to find out together…"

Jason's brow furrowed, but his eyes showed curiosity and excitement. "How?"

"By enlisting the aid of the Professor."

"The Professor?"

"Yes, Professor Charles Xavier. He was the one who helped me with my own powers. He helped me understand them and how to use them properly. He can help you too…"

Jason looked away for a second. This was all too weird. First, he finds out that his curse was actually a power bestowed on his; second, he finds that he's not the only one with such a gift, and now there someone out there that's apparently proficient at teaching people to control such powers. Something in his mind told him that this was a joke, but in his heart…he believed.

"I…I can barely believe this."

"I know the feeling, Jason. We all do."

"We? You mean there are more people out there like…us?"

"You might say that. The Professor actually opened his house to people like us, so we could all learn how to use our gifts properly. You can come as well too."

"That sounds great, it really does…" Jason frowned suddenly. "But, what about my family? I can't just leave them, especially since…" Jason stopped abruptly.

Jean decided to finish for him. "You're worried about your dad."

"Yeah…" Jason replied sadly, but then smiled a bit. "Geez, it's like you can…" Jason blanched. "…almost read my mind." Jason suddenly looked sharply at Jean. "Jean, you can read minds as well, can you?"

Jean looked shocked at that accusatory glare, but then looked down. "Yes, I am."

"Then you were in my head not too long ago! You and some…other guy!"

"Yes, it's true. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude…"

"You didn't mean to intrude. God, you were in my freaking head! Why should I not be offended by that!"

Jean didn't stir; she was used to those kinds of remarks from people who find out she had been in their heads. "I tried not to, but…"

"But what?" Jason replied savagely.

Jean sighed. "Look, it's hard to explain…"

"_I can take it from here, Jean…"_

Jason physically jumped at hearing the voice again, while Jean merely raised her head. Jason looked around. "Who is that?"

"Jason, relax. It's the Professor."

"The Professor?"

"_Yes, I am. I need you to calm down and focus your mind, Jason. I will be able to explain things. Jean, feel free to listen in, but keep your mind open for incoming hospital staff or the boy's mother."_

"_Yes, Professor."_

Jason spoke aloud. "Why my mom? Why can't see know about you guys?"

"_I have already communicated with your mother, Jason, non-telepathically I will add. She is…unwilling for you to talk to me, thinking I'm only wanting to recruit you."_

"Recruit me for what?"

"_I will explain in due time. But for now, merely communicate with your mind. All you have to do is just think our conversation, and both Jean and I will be able to communicate with you."_

Jason closed his eyes and concentrated. _"You mean, like this?"_

"_Yes, but fine-tune it. You're practically yelling."_

Jason opened his eyes to see that Jean had winced. _"Oh, sorry…"_

"_That's better. Now, as Jean has already said, I am Professor Charles Xavier, from the Xavier Institute for Gifted Children, or Youngsters if you so prefer. Truthfully, my Institute is reserved for those children gifted with the X-Gene."_

"_The X-Gene?" _Jason thought.

"_Yes. The X-Gene is a genetic mutation that has within the past one-hundred years. Currently, we don't know where it originated, but we do know that it is a recessive trait. Meaning, it's possible that your parents have the X-Gene themselves, but it is dormant thanks to a dominant 'normal' gene, if you will."_

"_But I'm adopted. I was adopted a couple weeks after birth, so I don't even know who they are."_

"_Then your blood parents, whoever they might be, have either manifested X-Genes, or suppressed X-Genes through genetic domination. However, that is beside the point. Those with a manifested X-Gene exhibit either a physical change or a power, such as Jean's telekinesis or my telepathy. I happen to be acquainted with a young man that can fire optic laser blasts from his eyes."_

"_Wow," _Jason thought.

"_You can say that again," _Jean snuck in.

"_And you, you have a power that I have never seen before, and I have seen many. While I may not know the type of power you have nor the full extent of it, we can find out together…if you will let me."_

Jason had to ask. _"How can you?"_

"_By going over the situations on when you unintentionally used your powers. First step is to remember. Now, the blanket."_

"_Well…" _Jason stopped to think. _"I remember that you two were in my head, and I started freaking out."_

"_And I must offer my apologies for that," _said the Professor through Jason's mind. _"I underestimated how your psyche after the accident had been left, and I unintentionally triggered your panic episode. Now, I want you to relax. You and I will both re-experience the memory so we can see what exactly happened during that moment. Shall we begin?"_

Jason sighed. _"I'm a little scared."_

"_I know, but we must try. Jean and I are beside you this time. Are you ready?"_

Jason closed his eyes. _"Yeah."_

"_Now, try to relax. Remember the blanket."_

Jason saw in his mind's eye him sitting right where they are now, but moments before. He had been wondering about what was going on with him while he kept clenching and unclenching his hands from the pain. There they were: the voices. Jason felt the fear punch him in the gut as he saw himself panic, trying to block the voices out. He saw himself clap his hands to his head, scream, and then slam his hands down on the blanket. Jason watched again, this time with fascination as the blanket morphed into the mess that it was. He saw the green bolts of energy lace around it.

The memory faded in front of his eyes as he reopened them. He heard the Professor in his head. _"In that memory lies a clue to your powers, however traumatic it is. How many times has this phenomenon happened that you remember?"_

"_Well, there was this one…" _Jason paused to remember, then blanched. _"Then one other time in the CT scanning room! I did it to two stress balls!"_

"_Good, let's look at that memory and see if we can find some common traits between this past memory, and the one in the CT room."_

"_Okay," _Jason thought, then closed his eyes. _"Ready."_

Jason saw his memory of him lying on the backboard while waiting for the doctors to come back in. This was where his hands kept bothering him. He saw himself clasps his hands together, and just as fast, separated them. He remembered that they started hurting awfully then. He watched himself grasp the balls, and there they went. He watched them melt around his fingers and wrap around his palms.

The memory replay ended. _"Professor, I think I saw something…"_

"_Yes, I believe we did, but we may need to test it. Both instances, you clasp your hands together, only in the most recent memory, you clasped your hands to your head, yet it didn't make a difference. Also, your hands seem to be in pain. Are they now?"_

"_Yeah, it's never changed. It's like there's lightning zapping through them."_

"_That may be a clue. When you clapped your hands together, you felt a surge of energy shooting through your arms, correct?"_

"_Yeah…" _Jason was beginning to see where this was going.

"_Jason, I need you to clap your hands together again. This seems to be a behavior that awakens your powers."_

"_Maybe, but it hurts like heck…"_

"_Such sudden evolutions of the body do. Your X-Gene was awakened violently, and so your body must adjust to this new development in its own time. It's not something that can be done quickly. Evolution took upwards to billions of years, but even it has its leaps forward. Thankfully, it won't take that long for your body to adapt."_

"_Thank goodness," _Jason thought with a smile.

"_Now, try to relax. Clap your hands together whenever you're ready, and I shall monitor what happens."_

To say Jason was nervous was to say grass was green. He opened and closed his hands, feeling the zapping pain in his hands, as he mustered up the courage to activate his powers. The Professor or Jean didn't even know what type of power he even had, and now they're expecting him to try controlling it. Of course he was scared. No one really understood his power…but the Professor seemed to want to understand, so that he could help.

The silence, both mental and physical was almost deafening, and Jason quickly became aware of a fly buzzing around near the window. Ignoring it, he looked at Jean for reassurance, who smiled. Jean meekly smiled back, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and clapped his hands together. Instantly, a bolt of pain like lightning raced through his arms. Jason gasped in pain, but he kept his hands together. Tears welled up in his eyes as he fought the pain.

"_Now, Jason. Grab the blanket!"_

Jason whipped his arms apart and grabbed the blanket. Instantly, the green energy bolts came back, and the blanket began to change. The blanket collapsed further upon itself and eventually became a spherical mass of fabric. Jason breathed hard as he watched the blanket change again. As soon as the transformation was finished, Jason heard the Professor speak through his mind again.

"_Remarkable. It seems that clapping your hands together is a catalyst to amplify your power, creating the energy needed for such a transformation."_

"_Do you have any idea what that was, Professor?" _Jean thought.

"_Not exactly…however, I have heard of some kind of mystical art that enables a person to do it, but it was said to have died in the Middle Ages, had it existed at all. Most authorities didn't even believe it was real…"_

"_Well, what is that then?" _Jason asked, his thoughts excited at this discovery.

"_I'm not sure. I don't want to make any conclusions right now."_

"_But Professor—" _Jason thought earnestly.

"Jason," Jean said aloud. "the Professor will find out what it is exactly, and he will tell you."

Jason gasped and looked about to say something, but held his tongue. Eventually, he sighed. "Give me a break…"

"_Calm yourself, Jason. You've been through a lot in less than twenty-four hours, much more than most ever should go through. I'm only asking for time to find out before I mislead you. If I tell you the wrong thing and you act upon my judgment, your powers could rebound on you if you misuse them. I cannot risk that."_

Jason calmed down some to think about what the Professor said. As much as his mind screamed about wanting to know more about his power, something was telling him that the Professor was just trying to protect him. Jason guessed he couldn't blame the Professor, considering what he has been through, excluding his newfound power. Sighing, he reluctantly thought. _"I…understand…"_

"_I know you want to know more now, but I promise, I will find out more about your power when I can. Currently, I want you to just focus on recovering, both physically and mentally."_

"_Yeah…" _Jason said disappointedly, but then he remembered something. _"Hey, Jean said that you helped teach her how to handle her own powers. Can I ask how?"_

"_Certainly! I'm surprised Jean has not mentioned the Institute to you before…"_

"_The Institute? You mean the Institute you mentioned before?"_

"_Indeed: the Xavier Institute for Gifted Children. On the surface to the outside world, it's a school for children to help children succeed by enhancing their unique scholastic or physical abilities. However, the true face is that it is a haven for gifted children that have manifested powers such as you and Jean. At the Institute, we help and teach children how to use their powers responsibly, and also discreetly. Mutants have…been a subject of suspicion among the populace."_

"_Yeah, I've heard of all the mutant persecutions in third-world countries…but I figured the U.S. would at least have some semblance of tolerance."_

"_Most would think so, Jason, yet if you study your history, you would learn that it takes the nation over a hundred years to even consider that another 'race' is just the same as any other."_

Jason looked up. The Professor was right, sadly. It took the United States almost two-hundred years, a civil war and a wake-up call from the Civil Rights movement to get blacks full citizenship status. Then there was the struggle for women to vote, and now there were gay rights in full swing. United States was the land of tolerance all right, but it took centuries to realize that meant more than originally thought.

The Professor interrupted his thoughts. _"We were actually hoping that one day you would come to the Institute so you can learn how to use your powers responsibly. I have seen too many mutants who have given into their power and now use them for shameful lusts."_

"_You think that could happen to me?" _Jason thought, insulted.

"_I cannot say what will happen to you or not, Jason. Every mutant has the choice with what to do with his powers; and for every choice, there is coercion towards one choice or the other. The question remains: what will you choose to do with your power, and how will you answer temptation?"_

Jason sighed, and found that Jean had sighed too. The Professor was playing a bit of hardball. _"You make a tempting offer yourself, Professor," _Jason thought. _"Yet, there are some problems."_

"_I assume you mean beyond your current injuries…"_

"_Yeah, there's my parents to deal with…plus that all depends on how my father is too…" _Jason had to pause, and breathe slowly. _"No one's telling me how he is, and I don't know why! He's my own father, damn it! Why shouldn't they tell me?"_

"_Everyone is concerned about you, Jason," _Jason heard Jean think. _"It's like I said before, I'm sure they just want you to concentrate on yourself right now."_

Aloud, Jason said. "Well, keeping me in the dark sure isn't helping. I can't help but think about Dad. I remember him being under the—" Jason suddenly paused. The last night's memories poured through his mind like hot water, and he couldn't stop its scalding wash. But unlike before, it quickly ceased. Gasping, Jason looking around wildly and looked at Jean, who looked like she had just released her concentration.

He heard the Professor speak through his mind. _"Jason, are you all right?"_

Jason was still breathing hard from the adrenaline wash. _"I think so…what happened?"_

"_A small side-effect from your accident, I fear. Such events like that hardly leave just a physical impression, Jason."_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Traumatic events such as yours often leave a mental imprint on one's behavior patterns; some are so severe that daily living is forever impaired. More than I care to admit, soldiers returning from war often never return to 'the way things were;' the war follows them in their minds, and loud noises often trigger the survival instinct that they learned fighting in the war. At one time, it was called 'the trauma of war,' but as psychologists researched further, it had been determined that this 'trauma' wasn't unique to just war veterans. Jason, as much as I am loathe suggesting such a thing, but that single thought about what you saw that night triggered a full-body panic as you relived that traumatic event. This is typical of someone that suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder."_

Jason's mind suddenly went blank. Right then, he felt that same punch of despair that he felt when Dr. Sontagg had suggested that his brain injury will probably subject an agonizing fate on Jason's life. Instantly, he closed his eyes tightly and breathed a sigh that proceeded tears.

While Jean did not mean to pry, she felt a sick wave of sadness wash through her mind and worked hard to block it. Her telepathy worked so that she had to literally filter out people's thoughts, particularly if they were reinforced by strong emotions like anger, happiness or sadness. However, it didn't have to take telepathy to see Jason was despairing. Jean reached out and grasped Jason's hand. Jason slowly tightened his own grip around Jean's hand.

Jason's eyes re-opened and his gaze fell out the window to the otherwise peaceful sky. Jean felt a wave of déjà vu as this was the exact same situation she found Jason in when she first arrived. Eventually, Jason sighed. "It just figures. The minute I find things looking up, something slaps me right back to the bottom." Jason put one hand to his head and rubbed it. "What else can go wrong?"

Jean had no answer. It did seem that Jason's luck was running out. Even with the distraction of finding out about his powers, he was still dealing with the very real threat from his injuries, and now with the addition of a mental disorder. Jason just merely watched a housefly fly around the window, searching for a way out as he left his thought fester.

Finally, the Professor spoke mentally, _"I'm sorry for burdening you with that, Jason. Thankfully, there are ways to combat such a mental disorder. Besides seeing good psychological help, you can even have me help you if you so wish if you would come to my Institute when you are ready."_

Jason didn't answer right away, but he finally answered out loud. "I'm…going to have to talk to my parents about this." _"Assuming I get to talk to both of them at any point in time."_

There was a mental silence that even surprised Jean, who thought, _"Professor?"_

After another pause, the Professor finally spoke. _"Perhaps that opportunity may come sooner than expected, Jason."_

That caught Jason's attention, and he looked at Jean. "What does he mean by that?"

The Professor instead answered. _"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to leave now. Jean, do you have a pamphlet of the Institute?"_

"_Of course, Professor…" _Jean thought.

"_Good. Jason, you can contact me or the other teachers at the Institute with the numbers on there. In the meantime, I suggest you bide your time before you talk to your parents about your mutation. Ideally, we would love to see you join us at the Institute by the middle of this coming August. That should give you time to recover and to have talked with your parents about this. You can even invite us to your home to help you disclose the truth if you so desire."_

"_Yeah, that would be helpful…" _Jason saw in his mind's eye what his "coming out" as a mutant might look like, and he gulped. He hoped his parents would understand.

"_Just remember, your power is your own, but it is you who decides what should be done with it. Thank you for taking time to speak with me, Jason. I hope we shall talk again…"_

With that, the mental chatter dissipated, and Jean leaned back, relaxing. She looked at Jason. "The Professor is right. You may have a power that humanity both wants and fears, but there's one thing that the Professor taught me a long time ago. What you do with it is where the real power lies." Jean then stood up. "It was good talking to you, Jason. I hope to see you at the Institute." As she turned to leave, she felt Jason grab her wrist. Looking back at Jason, she saw him look apologetic.

"Jean…" Jason said slowly. "I shouldn't have yelled at you earlier. I should have thanked you, really…"

Jean looked surprised. "Thanked me?"

"Yes. When you and the Professor first started talking in my head, I thought I was going crazy. I've heard of crazy people who hear voices inside their heads. When I found out that wasn't the case, I snapped at you when I should have thanked you. I hope you can forgive me…" Jason lowered his head. "I'm so sorry…"

Jean was touched. While many people accused her of prying into their heads, very few had ever apologized for it. Jean almost had to suppress tears of her own before answer. "That means a lot to me. You didn't have to apologize, because I understood your anger…but you did apologize. Thank you…I hope you get well soon."

Jason let go of Jean's hand, allowing her to go. "Thank you, Jean. I hope I do too."

Jean nodded, and left out the door. As she left, she thought about Jason. She had never seen such a poor soul in ruins like that, yet despite his waves of despair, there was something she saw in Jason's eyes, particularly upon his learning that he was a mutant, and blessed with a power: determination. Jean didn't think about it, but perhaps that her showing up to talk to Jason had been either excellent timing…or someone was in fact looking out for that kid, however bad off he seems to be right now. Jean smiled; Jason just may very well turn out all right.

Looking up as she walked, she saw a gurney being led up the hall towards her, flanked by a familiar face. Jean saw the man in the gurney and put two and two together. Jean waved. "Mrs. Downs!"

Susan, upon hearing her name, looked up and saw the red-haired young girl she talked to more than an hour before waving to her. "Hello, Jean! How's Jason?"

"Better. He wonders about his Dad though…" Jean looked at the man in the gurney. "And I'm guessing this is…?"

* * *

><p>Jason couldn't stop thinking about his new gift, whatever it was called. He looked at the spherical mass on his bed; it now reminded him of a large bean bag. With a hand supporting his chin, he thought about this new situation. Of course, in the back of his mind was this deal about Charcot's Syndrome and now PTSD, but something was squashing it. Before he met Professor Xavier and Jean, he almost lost the will to live, although he didn't let on to his mother at the time. Yet something held him back, until Jean came along to talk. Now, not quite two hours later, he felt like he now had something to do: to find his purpose. He had been given this power for some reason, either by evolution or by some higher being that science couldn't explain. He now needed to find out about it, and he would fight his ailments until he found out.<p>

He continued to study the former blanket, when suddenly he surfed a brain wave. The Professor had him awaken his power by clapping his hands, yet didn't go a step further. Jason just let the transformation happen, but what if Jason concentrated while the transformation happened? He was surprised that Professor Xavier didn't have him go to that next step, when he thought about how protective the Professor was about him. Maybe he didn't was Jason exerting himself while he was still recovering. Something about that kind of protection annoyed him, but also comforted him at the same time. It was annoying to go so slow at such a big discovery, but he felt comforted that someone was trying to protect him.

Yet, would it hurt just to try once more, only going one step further? He was sure tempted to try it once. Perhaps he could restore the blanket back to its original shape. That gave Jason an idea: maybe if he captured the image of the blanket before all the transformations happened in his head, he could turn it back! It just might work!

Looking around the room, he saw that he was alone. Listening briefly, he couldn't hear much outside. Seems like now was a good idea to try…

Taking a deep breath, he raised his hands up, and prepared to clap them together, bracing himself for the pain that would come.

_Knock, knock!_ Jason nearly jumped out of the bed when he heard that noise. He turned to see that Dr. Sontagg was standing in the door. Instinctively, he grabbed the deformed blanket and laid back down, hugging it against him.

Dr. Sontagg entered the room and saw Jason with the blanket. "Jason, is everything all right?"

"Yeah, I'm okay…just got a little warm with the blanket and decided to fold it up and hold it against my chest. Kind of helps the pain from my side, and a little bit with my hands." Jason explained, all the while watching Dr. Sontagg.

The doctor seemed to buy it and Jason relaxed. "That's actually a good idea. I sometimes have my patients who have had abdominal surgeries hold a pillow against their wounds, particularly when they stand up."

Jason just smiled.

"I'm glad to see you're smiling, especially since I dealt you some heavy news. Hopefully, our fears about that can be alleviated later today after your surgery."

"When is that, by the way?" Jason had to ask.

"In about another four hours, but in the meantime, get some rest. However, before you do, you might want to be awake for this…"

Jason looked up. "For what?"

Dr. Sontagg stepped aside to allow a couple of nurses in escorting a gurney. Jason couldn't see who it was right away, and got distracted when his mother stepped in. "Mom?"

Susan looked at Jason. "Jason! Are you doing better? Did that Jean girl help you?"

"Yeah, she did." Jason smiled knowingly, but he didn't say anything. "How's Dad?"

Susan smiled. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

"What do you—?" Jason cut himself off, and then looked at the other bed in the room just as the nurses had finished hoisting their charge into the bed and started setting up the heart monitors and IVs.

A man in a stiff collar and strapped to a backboard managed a small glance at Jason. "Hey, Jason…are you all right?"

Jason blanched. Words died on his lips and his heart nearly skipped two beats. Then, he finally breathed, "Dad?"

"In the flesh…" Patrick smiled. "…or what's left of it."

Dr. Sontagg cautioned. "Now, Patrick, you must take your rest. If you feel tired, don't be afraid to go to sleep."

"I think I had enough of that for a while…" Patrick replied.

Jason felt like he never felt his heart beat before, and it felt great. "Dad…I was so worried…I thought you might have…" Jason choked back the last part.

"Shh, it's okay, son. I'm still in one piece…" Patrick reassured. "How are you, son?"

"More or less, I'm fine." Jason then apprehensively looked at Dr. Sontagg. "But…"

"It's all right, Jason," Dr. Sontagg stepped in. "I've already told him, him being your father."

"Yes," Patrick said. "And I don't care what the ultimate conclusion ends up being. I want you to fight it, son. And I don't want to hear anything about giving up…" Patrick glanced at Susan. "That means you too, hun…"

Susan choked back joyful tears. "You never cut me a break, do you?"

"I wouldn't be your husband if I didn't…" Patrick looked back at Jason. "I may not fully recover myself. The Doctor told me that I won't be able to walk again…"

Jason blanched. "What?"

"My back was crushed by the car," Patrick said. "but I'm glad I'm alive and so are you…"

At the mention of the car, Jason's mind flashed back to that night. He saw the frightening images pop up again. Breathing hard, he fought them. Holding his right hand to his face, he gasped hard as he fought them. The next thing he knew, both his mother and Dr. Sontagg were looking over his bed. He was still breathing hard, and tears were streaming down his face. Jason shook his head. "I can't get these images out of my head. Every time I remember the accident, everything that happened, I feel it all over again. I hear it all again…" As he rambled, his adrenaline started to build again.

Dr. Sontagg snapped him out of it. "Jason, relax. You're in the hospital now; you're not out there again. It's in the past. You don't have to remember it…"

Jason pursed his lips as he breathed. "But the images…I get so scared…"

"It's called post-traumatic stress. Even battle-hardened men at war get that. Couple that with your traumatic-brain injury and it's even more violent. All you can do is just refocus your mind and try to relax, okay?"

Jason had to breathe deep a few times before answering. "Okay…"

Dr. Sontagg straightened up. "Patrick, while you received the most bodily injuries, Jason received a violent blunt blow to the right side of his head, and it has caused brain damage. We'll be doing surgery later today to relieve the pressure in his head and clean out some hemorrhages. Best-case scenario, he'll recover just fine and all he'll need is some sessions with counselors to deal with the post-traumatic stress. However, like I mentioned, he may very well get something else. We'll try our hardest, but I thought to warn you."

Patrick smiled. "Don't worry, I know you will do your best…" Patrick peered at Jason. "You will too. Don't be afraid, we're here now…"

Jason smiled as he brushed his eyes. "Thanks, Dad…"

* * *

><p>While Jason and his father talked, a small fly buzzed right out of the room and landed outside the hall on the floor. It looked around the empty hall and saw that it was alone. Quickly, it grew and changed into a nurse. As she walked away, she took out a communicator. Pressing a button, she spoke into it.<p>

"The Professor has established contact with the boy, and he has experimented with his power, yet not even Charles has discovered what he can do or what he is capable of." A pause. "Don't worry, I'm sure he can be swayed…given the right incentive…" Another pause. "You are coming then…" Another pause. "Very well…"

Mystique looked around again. The boy was indeed curious to see what he can do, and if offered, Jason should be able to learn just what he can do. And given if he refuses, Mystique knew by what lengths the Savior of Mutant-kind will do to provide salvation for Jason.


	5. Chapter 4: Preparations

**CHAPTER 4:**** Preparations**

* * *

><p><em>Outside St. Anthony's Hospital, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma; Saturday, April 16, 2011; 1:21 PM<em>

Professor Charles Xavier, Scott Summers, Ororo Munroe and Jean Grey stepped out of the sterile air of the hospital and into the fresh air of a warm mid-spring day, and that was very welcome.

Scott took a deep breath. "Now that's more like it."

"I have to admit that the air in the hospital, no matter how clean it was, is nothing compared to out here." Jean took a deep breath of her own.

"It's good when one can enjoy the simple luxury of the outdoors," Ororo cut in.

"Agreed," the Professor said. "However, we should not stay out here too long. Not only are we blocking the exit, but we need to return to the Institute. I'm going to need to confer with Hank to determine just what kind of power Jason has."

Scott, who had seen neither example nor result of Jason's power, had to ask. "What does he even do?"

Jean and the Professor looked at each other briefly, and then Jean answered. "It's…hard to explain."

"Allow me, Jean," the Professor cut in. "Jason has some kind of metamorphic ability, but not on himself. He can change the shape of things around him."

Behind his shades, Scott raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I'm missing something here, but I found out that easy enough to understand…" He glanced at Jean. "…and easy to explain."

Jean narrowed her eyes, but the Professor interceded. "That's because that's the only explanation we have. There's more to Jason's abilities, _much_ more…but right now, we need to make sure Jason not only survives the next few months, but also keep him safe."

"You think others will try to recruit him, Professor?" Ororo asked.

"No, Storm." The Professor's voice dropped to a foreboding level. "I know they will…"

* * *

><p>Jason tried to relax in the room, but his mind was abuzz with questions. His mother had left the room to call his sister, Bethany, to let her know the good news as it were. His father was taking frequent cat naps as best he could considering his current posture, so Jason was left to his own thoughts. With what had happened in the last couple of hours, he really needed the private time to think.<p>

While the Professor had answered some, the answers only brought many more questions. The one foremost on his mind was how was he going to tell his parents about his new found power. He unconsciously stroked the deformed blanket like it was a sleeping cat as he thought. Should he just out and tell them, or should be slowly but surely introduce it. Or should he wait until they inquire about it? Could he just call up the Professor and have him come down and help him out after all? Maybe he should wait for a bit of time, then call to see if the Professor has even found out what power he really has.

"Son?"

His father's voice derailed his train depot of thoughts. Looking his way, he answered. "What is it, Dad?"

"Are you all right?"

Jason blinked. "Yeah…as far as to be expected anyway." Jason's brow sank. "Why?"

"Because I thought you hated _Hell's Kitchen_…"

"What?"

Patrick motioned towards Jason's TV, and the boy looked up at it just in time to see Chef Ramsey lose it (again) regarding the kitchen slowdowns by the contestants. Jason could only say, "Oh," and change the channel.

"Jason, talk to your father. What's bothering you?"

Jason looked at his father again, all strapped down to a backboard complete with a cervical collar, and wasn't sure where to start. Truth be told, he had so many things on his mind beyond the mutation he has that he could barely think straight. And to think he was worrying about finals a couple days ago… "I—well…" Jason started to say, but his thoughts continued to churn like hot soup on the fryer. "Well…it's a bunch of things really…I don't know where to start."

Patrick smiled. "Try at the beginning."

Jason had to smile at that, but sobered up. "The thing is, Dad, I'm not even sure what the beginning is. Every time I even think about last night, I just—"

Patrick decided to finish. "You become afraid."

Jason didn't move or speak for several seconds, but then finally managed. "Yes." Jason pursed his lips briefly, and then spoke again. "I really am a coward, ain't I?"

"No, you're not," Patrick said sternly.

"Yes, I am!" Jason choked. "I was scared when I thought I lost you! I'm scared that I might die a slow and painful death! I'm even scared of a simple world like—"

"Stop!" Patrick barked.

Jason looked at his father in surprise. Last time he barked at him like that was when he was caught sneaking milk out of the refrigerator after bedtime as a kid. "Dad?" Jason said, almost timidly.

"I will not have my son talk like that, not even about yourself. Do you understand me?"

Jason had to breathe. Even in his condition, his father still rose up to disciplining his own son. Even now, he felt that fear of getting punished from back then, which kept him in line all these years until he learned to obey willingly. Looking as if he was just slapped, he said. "I'm…I'm sorry…"

Patrick sighed, and then said, "No one blames you for being afraid, Jason. The doctor himself even said that soldiers also get afraid of what they experienced in war. For some, sadly, it's enough to drive them to suicide. But you can pull through this, Jas'. It will be hard, it will be tough, but you can do it."

Jason looked at his father, and he lingered at his legs. "What about you, Dad? Even you have an uphill climb, and you won't even make it all the way!"

Patrick didn't respond right away, but Jason saw him rub the tops of his thighs. Jason instantly regretted saying what he just said. Quickly, he said. "I didn't mean that!"

Patrick still said nothing, and Jason grew tense, not even daring to breathe. He didn't even stop to think that his own father was still coping with the loss of the use of his legs, in addition to the very idea of being stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. Jason mentally kicked himself repeatedly for saying something that struck so close to home. "Dad?" Jason's voice cracked as he ventured. "Dad, I'm sorry!"

"Son," Patrick managed to say. "It's all right. I know you didn't mean it."

Jason felt his heart beat again, and all the tension in his body evaporated. As he breathed hard, he looked at his father, who hadn't stopped rubbing the tops of his thighs. "Are you all right, Dad?"

"I just haven't quite gotten used to it yet." Patrick rubbed his fingers together, thankful that at least his hands and arms were allowed to move. "It's something for so long that I've taken for granted: walking." Patrick sighed, coping. "He was right: you never truly appreciate something until it's gone. I…wish I walked more than I did."

Jason didn't dare look away from his father. Jason couldn't even imagine the kind of pain that his father was in from all his injuries, but at the heart of it all was losing the ability to walk. All of the sudden, his own injuries, even the traumatic brain injury didn't seem so bad in light of this. There was at least a chance that Jason's brain would in fact return to normal after the surgery and the care afterwards, but the cold truth was that his father would _never_ walk again. Jason was unsure how his father would handle this, now or later. "Dad?"

"What is it, son?"

"What are you going to do?"

"What can I do? I'll just have to take this in stride…"

"Nono, what I mean is…how are you going to work? You can't work in a factory like—" Jason cut himself off.

"I know, son." Patrick sighed again. "Maybe I can answer the phone or something. I won't find out until I have a chance to talk to the boss."

Jason couldn't help but ask. "And if they…release you?"

Patrick didn't respond right away, and Jason could see that he too had been thinking about that scenario as well yet hadn't said anything about it until now. "Then…they release me."

Jason deflated slightly. That was not the answer he wanted to hear. "You can't just blow that off like that! Dad, you were the financial backbone of the family. Sure, you didn't make a _lot_ of money, but it was enough to feed us and put a roof over our heads. But now…" Jason didn't feel the need to finish, and only let the implications ferry the message across the river of emptiness between him and his father.

Patrick didn't respond, and Jason again began to fret. Why wouldn't his own father answer him? It was agonizing that his own father couldn't even look him in the eye even. Jason soon found himself angry, wanting something or someone to blame for putting such infliction of a perfectly good family for seemingly no reason.

"Why are you angry, son?"

His father's question shocked Jason, but his shock flared to outrage. Jason couldn't stand his father's passivity at the situation any longer. "Why shouldn't I be? We almost died last night, you can't walk anymore and I might die at a young age…in _agony_ I might add! You're about to lose your job and because of that, we may end up out on the street or some homeless shelter! But why? _What did we do to deserve this!_"

Jason panted from his outburst as he waited for an answer from his father, but none came. That alone sent the boy into another rage. "_Why don't you say anything!_ _You_ should be angry! _You_ should be blaming something! But you don't! You just—you just—" Jason felt his rage ebb and fade to tears. "You just…lie there." His anger spent, he merely continued to stare at his father, demanding an answer.

Finally, Patrick sighed. "How do you feel now?"

To say that Jason wasn't expecting that answer would be a gross understatement. Jason was stunned to silence as that question froze up his mind.

Thankfully, his father decided to speak up again. "You unleashed a lot of anger just now. Do you feel better now that it's off your chest?"

Jason felt the rage rekindle again, but kept it back. "Dad…"

"I know, son. I know that everything you just vented about could be very well true. In fact, most of it is true…but if I kept my mind on all my own problems, how can you expect me to take the time to care about yours? Or your mother's? Or your sister's?"

Jason drew a breath, but did not answer.

"By all rights, I should question why this has happened to us as a family, son, to be sure. I can never walk again, yes. I may get released from work and live on benefits the rest of my life, yes. You may develop a degenerative brain disease from this, yes. My loving wife and daughter, your mother and sister, will struggle to help both of us, and you may never see your own sister grow up to become a wonderful woman we are raising her to be.

"Everything you said just might happen or will happen, and you're right, we can't help but be angry because of this. It isn't fair; it isn't right! But can you tell me to whom I should cast my grievances, God? And what difference would it make?"

Jason had to look away. That was the very thing he wanted to do. He wanted to blame God for all this…but why? Jason thought it through a bit more, and the result reviled him: to make himself feel better. But that was the thing: only _feel_ better, not _be_ better. No blame-casting would actually fix it…just soothe it for the time being. His father was right in his rhetorical question: it wouldn't make a difference.

Despite Patrick being generally immobile, he could sense that Jason was now beginning to understand. "Understand this, son. I didn't say all those things to put you down or to discipline you. I did it to help you. This will be a tough time for us all, but that's the very reason why we need to be strong for not only ourselves, but for all of us."

Jason was about to say he understood, but truthfully, the old fear still lingered in his heart. He was scared to die in pain. However, his hiding it wasn't going to help anymore. "I understand…" Jason started to choke. "It's just…I'm scared, Dad…"

"I know you are, son. I'd seriously question the honesty of any man that told me he wasn't scared of what's coming next. It's not wrong to be scared son; it's wrong if you let it control you. And better yet, you don't have to face your fears alone."

That brought a smile to Jason's face. "Thanks, Dad." Jason looked away again. As he did, he actually did feel better that all that weight was off of his chest. He only wished there was a better way to do that than yell at his father.

As he thought, he remembered there was still one issue still unresolved: his mutation. Jason looked at his hands yet again, trying to ignore the pain that had never left his hands since waking from the accident. Only about an hour before, the Professor and Jean had helped him discover his powers, but had to abruptly leave before they could actually try to control them. The Professor wasn't even sure what the power even was itself. Jason wiggled his fingers, listening to the joints pop from disuse as he continued to think about what he was thinking about before his Dad asked about his distracted behavior.

"Dad?" Jason said.

"What is it?"

Jason took his time before answering, and decided ultimately to go conservative on this approach. "Have you seen anything recently about…the progress of humanity?"

If Patrick was able to give Jason a confused look, he would have. He just made do. "…what do you mean?"

"I mean, like how we are going as a species…"

"Jason, you're talking over my head, although right now, that's not hard to do."

Jason smiled at that, but sobered up. "It's something I've been wondering. In school, we're taught about how evolution is how we evolved from a single-cell organism to what we are now, and that it took nearly four billion years. Even then though, scientists speculate that not even that long is good enough for evolution, so they assume that every million years or so, there's a surge forward in evolution."

"I'm with you so far, son…."

"If I remember right, humanity emerged at two-million years ago, according to the theory of organic evolution. If that is true, and what scientists debate about surges in evolution is true…are we overdue?"

Patrick thought about this question, piecing it together with the earlier questions. "So, when you are talking about the progress of humanity, you're really talking about what might be the next step of evolution would be in human beings."

"Yeah…" Jason replied.

"Is this just a question for your own curiosity…or do you have some other purpose for it in mind?"

Jason sighed. His father had picked up on the implication that there was a deeper purpose for such a line of questioning that he was presenting. Still, he could still chart the line of questioning conservatively for the moment. "It's kind of based on what I've been hearing or reading in the news."

"What's that?"

Jason took a breath, and took the plunge. "The mutant agenda."

"The mutant agenda?"

"Yeah," Jason continued. "You haven't heard much about it?"

Patrick smiled. "Son, I'm usually too busy working at the factory and paying the bills to check in on the agendas of the world. Plus, you know how news tends to be slow in our little town."

Jason had to agree there. "True enough. There's a lot of talk about a growing mutation in the human race, but they're not even sure it's a real mutation. I don't want to talk about the politics of it, but when I saw something about the agenda when learning about the organic evolution theory, it got my mind wondering if this mutation was in fact the next step in evolution. What if that's what the future of human beings are: to become…something above human?"

Jason stopped talking for a bit to see if his father had anything to say. He looked over to see that Patrick was more processing what Jason said then thinking about it. Jason pursed his lips; one of his quirks at school was talking over the heads of his peers in deep issues, and often he'd have that same quirk at home. A consequence of having an honor-roll student in the house, he guessed. "Did I talk over your head again?"

"A bit, yeah, but I think I get the gist if what you are trying to say there." Patrick swallowed before continuing. "But I don't think any of what you said really answers the question I asked…"

Jason rewound his mind to remember the question his father had asked. _"Is this just a question for your own curiosity…or do you have some other purpose for it in mind?" _"Well, there's kind of two parts to it. I want to know…what you think about people that…might have a mutation like that." Jason waited for an answer, when a horrible thought came to his mind: he may have already dropped the ball on that he had a mutation already, even though he didn't say he did. His father wasn't stupid: he may have picked up on that implication as well.

Before Patrick could answer, there was a knock on the door. Both looked just in time to see an older woman come right in as if she belonged here. Jason smiled; it was Grandma Denise, his maternal grandmother.

Denise didn't miss a beat. Hands resting on her hips, she looked at both Jason and Patrick. "Well, I do declare! You two have just made yourselves a complete mess!"

"It wasn't exactly our idea, Grandma…"

"Oh, I know, sweetheart. Now don't you worry; once you both are out of here, I'll be right around to help you two along. Oh, that reminds me!" With that, she abruptly left the room for a second.

Jason took the time to say, "Glad to see that at least one of us is normal today."

Very quickly, Denise came in leading in a four-year-old girl with dark hair and blue eyes.

Jason's eyes lit up. "Baby Beth!"

Bethany, looked up at her older brother all wrapped up in bandages, and shrunk back towards Denise. Jason frowned at that, and felt a little hurt.

Denise noticed right away. "Bethany, that's your brother. He got hurt with your Dad and you should go talk to him."

Jason took the opportunity to help. "Come on, Beth. I need you right now. If you kiss my ow-ies, maybe they'll get better!"

Bethany meekly smiled, and walked slowly towards Jason. Jason reached out one of his hands, all bandaged up from a burn, towards Bethany. The little girl took it in her own two hands, and looked at it for a little bit. Then, lowering her head, she came right at Jason's side and buried her little face into the bed.

Jason was touched at this, but also concerned. Wordlessly, he looked at his grandmother.

"She's had a hard night, Jason. When Susan got the call about what happened last night, she dropped Bethany off at my house last night and took off for Oklahoma City. Poor Bethany is too young to understand what happened to you…"

Jason felt sorry for poor Bethany. It was bad enough to be hurt horrifically in an accident such as he had went through, but not knowing what was going to happen to your own family…that must be torture. Jason began to wonder who had it worse in a situation like this: the victim or the one who loved him.

"Grandma? Can you help me get Bethany into the bed?" Jason asked. "She needs to be closer than this right now…"

Without a word, Denise helped Bethany climb onto the bed. Immediately, Bethany buried her face into Jason's bare but bandaged chest. Jason mildly winced as Bethany accidentally upset his broken ribs, but he said nothing. Right now, Bethany needed someone to hold her. Slowly, he put one arm around his little sister. To his surprise, Bethany didn't cry, but remained quiet. "Your right; she has had a rough night."

Denise had to chuckle. "You're not one to talk, darling."

Jason smiled, as did his father. "Touché. Hey, where's Mom?"

"Oh, don't you worry about that. I sent her out to het herself something to eat and get some sleep. I do declare, if she doesn't take care of herself, she'll turn into an old hag like me before fifty!"

Jason laughed. "I wouldn't call you an old hag, and even if you were, you're certainly happy enough."

"Aw, that's nice of you to say, dear. Anyway, I'm going to go find her and we're going to talk about what we're going to have to do about you…" She then looked pointedly at Patrick. "…and you."

Jason cut in. "Can Beth stay here?"

"Of course! Now, don't go away. I'll be back soon!" With that, Grandma Denise left the room.

Patrick sighed. "Mothers-in-law…"

"'Don't go away?'" Jason said. "Sometimes I can't tell if she's serious or just pulling my leg."

"Jason, that's a problem I've been dealing with when I first met your grandmother when your mother and I were dating."

Bethany had a few words to say. "When is big brother and Daddy coming home?"

Jason held her close, trying to ignore the pressure on his ribs. "I don't know yet, Beth. I really hope it's really soon though. It will be when we're all better."

Bethany lowered her head again and hugged Jason. The broken ribs complained from the pressure, which made Jason wince. The little girl noticed right away. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, Beth," Jason said, working to smile. "Big brother's just got a big owie right now under this." Jason tapped the large gauze bandage that was wrapped around his chest."

"How big?"

"Really big."

"Did you cry when you got hurt?"

Jason hesitated a second; it was rather difficult to explain to a kid that he didn't cry because he was unconscious when it happened. "I tried not to."

"Did someone kiss it and make it better?"

Jason always had to smile at her little sister's blissful innocence. "I don't think anyone did."

Bethany rose up to a sitting position right out of the blue. Jason watched with confusion, until he saw her lean over to his bandaged side, give it a little kiss, and then promptly lie right back down. "Now you'll be all better!"

Jason smiled again, but differently. That little gesture went straight to his heart, and it touched him. He almost felt like he wanted to cry, but this time not out of anger or depression. "Thanks, Beth."

Unseen to either Jason or Bethany, Patrick smiled at seeing such an act of compassion from his little girl.

There were a few more moments of peaceful bliss, when Bethany noticed something. "Big brother?"

Jason looked at Bethany. "Yeah, Beth?"

"What is that?"

Jason looked at where Bethany was pointing: the deformed blanket. Jason felt his heart skip a beat, and followed his first impulse. "It's…a pillow!"

"No it's not!" Bethany said plainly. "Pillows are the things under your head when you sleep."

Jason laughed nervously. "It's a different kind of pillow. It's a…chest pillow!"

"A chest pillow?"

"Yeah!" Jason kept going, all the while smiling to hide his nervousness. "You put it on your chest and then wrapped your arms around it…like this." Jason demonstrated.

Bethany only giggled. "You're silly…"

Jason continued to laugh nervously. "Yeah…I guess I am."

Unseen by Jason, his father had espied Jason's odd behavior in his peripheral vision, and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

* * *

><p><em>Xavier Institute for Gifted Children, April 16, 2011; 5:23 PM<em>

Upon returning to the Institute, Jean and Scott had left the Professor and Storm to try to cultivate a good weekend. For the Professor, there was now a lot to do and little time to do it. Putting his fingers to his temples, he telepathically called out, "Ororo, Hank, meet me in the Planning Room. We need to discuss something important."

Several minutes later, the Professor entered the Planning Room, and both Hank "Beast" McCoy and Ororo "Storm" Munroe were already present. Ororo decided to get the meeting going. "All right, Professor. I shouldn't have to bother mention that Hank as well as me already know why we are here."

"Yes," the Professor said. "I shouldn't also happen to mention that I am disturbed about the child…"

Ororo looked at Hank, who had looked back. Hank spoke for both of them. "What exactly can the boy do?"

"That's one reason why we are meeting here, Hank. I do not know exactly what he can do, but I sense that it's far deeper than we can imagine. Hank, get on the computer. We need to see what he can do. Ororo, see if you can find out where Logan has gone to. I cannot pick him up on the grounds."

"Yes, Professor." Ororo promptly left the room.

Hank got on a chair and immediately started speed-typing on the keyboard, which was quite impressive since his hands were very large and ape-like. "All right, Professor. What can you tell me about the boy?"

"His powers are 'similar' to metamorphosis, except instead of himself, he can change the shape of anything he touches…but there's more to it than that."

McCoy turned to the Professor. "What is it?"

"There seems to be some kind of energy necessary for him to pull it off. When he transformed a blanket of his into a ball of cloth, there was a lot of energy discharge as a result."

Hank immediately looked thoughtful. "You wouldn't mind if I asked if you could 'show' me what it looked like, would you Professor?"

"Of course not, Hank. In fact, it's probably better if you do see it."

With that, the Professor reached out to touch Hank's head and immediately focused on earlier that afternoon. As this went on, Hank saw that the Professor had been looking through Jean's eyes to view this properly. As he "watched," his brow sunk as he saw Jason hesitate to clap his hands together, and once he did, he saw the poor boy wince in pain. Soon enough, he touched the blanket. Hank's eyes widened as he watched the blanket's transformation, laced with green lightning-like energy.

The Professor stopped relaying the mental picture and both looked up with a gasp. Such a telepathic link often was stressful on both the transmitter and receiver. Both took a quick second to recover themselves.

Hank put it best. "Remarkable! I have never seen such an X-Gene manifestation in my life."

"Indeed. Jason is not only a mutant, but a special one. Not even Magnus' power is exclusive to him…and I doubt Jason has escaped his focus."

Hank looked at the Professor and silently agreed. The Professor and Magneto have both been recruiting new mutants to their respective causes, and often found themselves fighting for the same one. Jean Grey was the first they "battled" over.

Hank decided to focus on the boy instead. He looked at the computer and continued to type. "I myself am not familiar with any mutant powers that exhibit that kind of physical transformation…but there is something I have heard of some years back." Some more typing. "It's just a hunch, but I have a wild guess at what we may in fact be looking at in Jason."

Hank pulled up some scans of some medieval looking texts on the screen, and stepped back a bit to let the Professor see. "Is this some kind of mystical tome for sorcery?"

"Not exactly. Back during the Middle Ages, often in each castle there was an alchemist, and these alchemists theorized that it was possible to turn lead into gold. Naturally, this created a 'gold rush' if you will and it became the goal of all alchemists to turn lead into gold. However, alchemists didn't just study that kind of transformation; they were interested to see just what could their alchemy do. Most of the texts are mainly theories, but some did come up with something remarkable." Hank pressed a button which displayed the next image: an archaic circular array with many symbols, shapes and script of an unknown language within it. It was quite the work of art in itself. "This is what they call a transmutation circle, or a purification array."

"Purification?" Xavier inquired.

"From what I have seen, a transmutation often leaves a pure substance as a result, hence calling it purification."

The Professor crossed his hands together in front of him thoughtfully.

"A transmutation is the changing of one thing into another, and alchemists use these arrays to do so. They theorized that using the array, they could summon the energy required to make a transmutation. More peculiar still, they believed that alchemy was not a form of sorcery…but a science."

"A science?"

"Indeed. While on the surface it seems mystical, it is written in these books that there is a balance that all alchemy must answer to: the law of equivalent exchange. We know it as the First Law of Thermodynamics."

"Fascinating. So these 'alchemists' had begun to discover the basics of physics even during the Middle Ages…"

"Quite. Those that knew that were the true alchemists, I imagine."

"So Jason very well may be an alchemist…"

"It would seem so, judging by your description. However, no one has knowingly seen alchemy have not seen alchemy in action so I cannot say unless we see more evidence. Yet, there is still another hitch."

"What is it?"

Hank indicated the array again. "According to these tomes, alchemy is impossible to perform without using these arrays to channel the energy necessary for a transmutation…"

"…and Jason had not used one, or even had one," the Professor finished.

"Exactly."

Somehow that revelation didn't sit well with either Mr. McCoy or the Professor. Jason's power seemed to fit the label of alchemy. After all, the blanket didn't gain or loss mass upon its transmutation; only its arrangement. However, if the tome was to be believed, then Jason could not have been able to attempt it, even if he knew his power was alchemy.

Suddenly, the Professor looked up. "I must contact an associate of mine, whom I'm sure can help us with this."

Hank didn't need to ask who it was, but did have to ask another question. "What shall we do about the boy?"

"I have offered that he come to the Institute, but only upon his recovery. Right now his mind is fragile and the possibility of future maladies as a result of his terrifying ideal with Mother Nature weighs heavily on his mind."

"I had a feeling that is the case, but I believe that there is still yet another problem that we as well as Jason will have to deal with before that…far before that."

"Indeed, but first, I must use Cerebro."

With that, the Professor left the Planning Room, leaving the blue-furred Hank McCoy alone to his thoughts.

* * *

><p><em>Sanctum Sanctorum, Greenwich Village, 9:34 PM<em>

Night was coming fast in the quaint little village of Greenwich, never knowing at the middle of its village was a magical mansion, called the Sanctum Sanctorum. Of course, only beings versed in magic knew where the Sanctum was; to all other eyes, it was a frozen yogurt bar with empty floors above it. No one knew that this place was the permanent residence of the Sorcerer Supreme: Doctor Strange.

Dr. Strange was a rather interesting fellow. Formerly a selfish surgeon who wanted nothing but money, karma had dealt him a blow by destroying his hands in a car accident. Searching for a cure to his maimed hands, he found an old hermit in the heights of the earth known only as the Ancient One. While the Ancient One initially refuses to help the former doctor, Dr. Strange ended up saving the Ancient One's life from the hands of Baron Mordo, whom Dr. Strange would count later to be one of his greatest foes. As a reward, the Ancient One agreed to teach Dr. Strange the ways of magic, as well as heal his hands.

Since then, Dr. Strange has been something of a guardian of the Earth and other dimensions from both devils and men who would threaten the world, and being such a great sorcerer that he was, he could literally shield the earth from anything the universe could hurl against it, given the proper enchantments of course. Even demons were hesitant to deal with such a magician.

Learning from the Ancient One was one of the best things to happen to Dr. Stephen Strange's life. With the training came humility. His previous life as a world-renown surgery was laced with pride and arrogance. Now, he sat aside his pride in light of what he was tasked to do as the Sorcerer Supreme.

This night, Dr. Strange was in his chambers, meditating. Around his neck was a pendant that bore a symbol of the All-Seeing Eye: the Eye of Agamotto. This precious magical charm empowered the user to see things past, present and future, as well as see any form of magic used anywhere in the world at any time. He spent many evenings like this, meditating while viewing the world with the Eye. One could never know when something that required the attention of the Sorcerer Supreme would rear its ugly head. Right now, it was radiating a white light as Dr. Strange meditated.

As he meditated, he became aware of someone searching the psychic realm. Interested, the sorcerer looked into it. Focusing the Eye of Agamotto on the being searching the realm, he soon found an astral image of a bald man dressed in business suit sitting in a wheelchair. On his head was some unusual headgear that grasped his head in strategic places. Dr. Strange smiled to himself. "Good evening, my friend," the sorcerer saluted.

The Professor's form in the realm spoke as well. "Greetings to you, Stephen."

"Many times I have observed you using your Cerebro to search the world for more of the gifted, Charles. However, this is the first time I have seen you use it to look for me. Pray, what may I help you with?"

"I have a question that requires your expertise, Stephen."

Dr. Strange said nothing for a brief second, but continued, "What is it?"

"I have encountered a youth that is one of the 'gifted,' as you call, but he possesses a most unusual gift. With the assistance of Dr. McCoy, we have an educated guess on what his gift is, but some things do not add up."

"Might I inquire on what his gift is?"

"It appears to be alchemy."

In his chambers, Dr. Strange blanched, and as he did, the Eye of Agamotto faded its glow slightly. Re-establishing his meditative link, he said. "Perhaps I should come to you, Professor. This is a discussion that must be shared privately, and even the psychic realm is not without ears."

"I agree, Stephen. I shall be in my office."

With that, Dr. Strange returned to the realm of reality and instantly stood up. Taking up a wand from his dresser, he scribbled in the air many arcane symbols, each wand stroke leaving behind a glowing purple mark in the air. Upon completion, he gave the wand a wave over the script and it began to move. The words arranged themselves into a circle and began to spin. Soon, a purplish light glowed in the middle which began to expand. Dr. Strange waited patiently as his Summoning Gate opened up and through ti came two tomes from the Sanctorum Library.

Upon retrieving the tomes, he put on his Cloak of Levitation and strode for the doors. He tapped on the doors twice, and then opened them. He stepped out into the study and found his apprentice, Wong, studying a grimoire intensely.

The Eastern-born man looked up from his study and stood up. "Master, how can I help you?"

"Thank you, Wong. I need you to look after the Sanctorum until I return. I need to speak to an associate of mine. I should return tonight."

Wong bowed gracefully. "I will obey, my master."

Without another word, Dr. Strange drew a circle into the air, which glowed above his head. Then, he flew up into it and he was gone from the study.

* * *

><p>The Professor did not have to wait long for Dr. Strange to arrive. He only just logged out of Cerebro and closed the chamber behind the bookshelves of his office when a purplish circle appeared on the floor. Glowing radiantly, the Professor watched as a man in a blue robe and adorning a bright scarlet cloak came up from the circle. As soon as the man rose up fully, the circle dissipated and the man touched down on the floor.<p>

"It is good for you to come on such short notice, Stephen," the Professor greeted.

Dr. Strange returned the greeting. "And I share the feeling. I have brought with me two tomes regarding the ancient art of alchemy."

"How much do you know of alchemy, Stephen."

"While it is not an art or method I use, alchemy is the bridge that spans between magic and science. Anything that involves even the slightest amount of magic, I must be knowledgeable about."

"What is alchemy?" the Professor inquired.

"Quite simply, it's the process of understanding the makeup of a mass or energy, breaking it down into useable energy through transmutation then rebuilding the consumed mass from said energy into a new shape entirely. However, that explanation severely limits the true potential of alchemy.

"Alchemy can be used to shape virtually anything, mass or energy, to whatever the shaper wills. There is only one limitation:"

The Professor finished. "The Law of Conservation of Energy."

"Quite," Dr. Strange affirmed. "In an alchemic reaction, or any other scientific reaction, the output must equal the input, or else there is no balance and the reaction will not proceed. Anything that works within that scientific law can happen with alchemy. It is…the ultimate science."

"So what are the ties to magic?"

"In order for the reaction to take place, one must understand the mystic flows of the universes and how to summon them to grant the transmutation. This is done by a combined understanding of the mystic powers of the universe and utilizing the arrays that will direct the flow, such as these:" Dr. Strange levitated a book towards the Professor and it opened with a flutter of pages to a set of diagrams with various transmutation circles; however, these were different from the ones Hank found.

"These circles…all are so different," The Professor pointed out.

"Indeed. Each circle is designed to do a specific reaction within alchemy. The general tendency is that the more complex the array, the more complex reactions are channeled." Dr. Strange looked up. "I seem to recall that you believe that one of the gifted children you have discovered may possess the gift of alchemy."

"Yes, but there is a complexity to it. Before I tell you what it is, can you demonstrate an alchemic reaction?"

Dr. Strange smiled. "Certainly, my friend." With a wave of a hand, a circle again appeared on the floor, but this time matching one of the more basic circles in the tome that the Professor has seen. Dr. Strange then stood up and with another flick of the hand summoned out of thin air a wooden cube that was four inches square. "This cube in its current state has a mass of just under a kilogram." Levitating the cube into the middle of the circle, the sorcerer then crouched down and placed both hands within the circle. Instantly, the circle changed from purple to blue. The Professor watched mesmerized as blue bolts of energy raced in and out of the circle and around the cube. Quickly, it changed from a cube into a sphere. Yet, despite this change, it still appeared to carry the same mass as the cube before.

Once the transmutation was done, the circle faded as Dr. Strange banished it. Levitating the sphere into his own hand, he said, "I can guarantee that this sphere has the same mass as the cube before. I can only change its size by changing its density, but the mass will remain the same."

"Remarkable!" the Professor said.

"It is a wonderful science, but one of the benefits of becoming the Sorcerer Supreme is that I can create objects out of the air with magic," Dr. Strange said, chuckling. He then sobered up. "Now, what about the child?"

"Yes. Just this morning, I had the opportunity to visit a young man named Jason Downs; he had been horrifically injured in a tornado that almost killed him and his father. When he was found, they found his car bent backwards over the two men. Even since I have seen the photos that Ororo has shown me and upon watching him use his power with my own eyes as it were, I had wondered what his opwers was, but I knew it was something…very unique. Now that I have seen alchemy with my own eyes, I now am sure that what the boy has is the gift of alchemy…yet there is a catch." The Professor looked hard at Dr. Strange. "Stephen, the boy had performed a transmutation _without_ the aid of a transmutation circle."

Dr. Strange's eyes shot open. "You are certain, Charles?"

"Now that I know what alchemy looks like, I am positive. Right now, he is critically injured and his powers have shown signs of acting on their own."

Dr. Strange looked like he had just seen the devil himself. "By the Demons of Denak…Charles, these tidings are grave. If the boy can indeed perform alchemy without a transmutation circle…"

"…then he is definitely a powerful boy."

"Yes, but I doubt you fully understand the capabilities of his power." Dr. Strange looked hard at the Professor, who noted a small hint of fear in the sorcerer's eyes. "Charles, he can bypass a foundation of alchemy without rebound. He has the potential of reshaping any form of matter or energy to anything he so wishes. All he needs to do is understand the properties of each element, mineral, alloy down to the subatomic structure. He could even manipulate electron flow with his power, Charles. He…could easily become the most powerful mutant that has ever walked the earth."

This rattled the Professor. He was aware that the powers of mutants were often given a rating, and Omega-level was awarded to the most powerful. Very few mutants ever achieved Omega-level status. At the moment, he only knew of one other.

"I must call some of the others. Jason must be protected."

"Indeed. I shall return to the Sanctum Sanctorum tonight, and find enchantments that can protect the boy from any magical influence that the boy may come under. I sincerely doubt such alchemic feats have escaped the notice of the denizens of the Dark Dimension. If they have, then the Vishtani have surely hidden Jason from them. In the meantime, I shall keep the gaze of the Eye of Agamotto on him."

The Professor mentally called out. _"Ororo, have you found Logan?"_

"_Yes, Professor, he is here now."_

"_Good."_ Then he sent out a telepathic message to more than just one person. _"Logan, Hank, Ororo and Piotr. Meet me in my office; it's urgent."_ Outloud, he spoke to Dr. Strange. "Thank you for your time, Stephen."

"May the Vishtani forever watch you." With that, Dr. Strange vanished in a red smoke.

Just as he did, four people came into the room: a dark-skinned woman with long snow-white hair, a shorter man that looked like he had the blood of a wild animal in him, a tall well-built teen with a contrasting gentle disposition, then the blue-furred gorilla form of Hank.

"What's the matter, Prof?" the shorter man, Logan, said. Logan's face always seemed to be in a glare, and despite his relatively shorter stature, he made up for it for being one of the fiercest combatants on the battlefield.

"I had just spoken with Dr. Stephen Strange about the boy that Ororo and I have attempted to recruit, Jason Downs. With the help of him and Hank, we have determined that the boy is capable of being one of the most powerful mutants the world has ever seen."

"You have determined what he can do," the woman, Ororo, said.

"Yes: alchemy. Dr. Strange has confirmed it."

Hank looked amazed. "Did Dr. Strange offer an explanation on how he can do it without the arrays?"

"Arrays?" Piotr, the hulking young man, replied in his thick Russian dialect.

"Not all of us are college students, Chuck," Logan said, looking a little annoyed. "How about explaining it a little more?"

"Alchemy is a mystical science that can be used to reshape virtually any type of energy or matter into virtually any desired shape or form." The Professor continued to explain. "However, an array is typically needed to do so; Jason doesn't need one. Stephen seemed equally surprised, as well as disturbed, at learning the boy needs no array."

The others looked at each other but remained silent.

"What must we do?" Piotr finally asked.

"Protect Jason at all costs. Dr. Strange believes that we are not the only ones who have noticed Jason."

Logan made a soft growl as the whole group of them mutually understood.

"Judging on the seriousness of the situation, three of you and myself will need to set up surveillance on Jason at the St. Anthony's Hospital in Oklahoma City. Ororo and myself will take charge during the day, while Piotr and Logan will take charge during the night. Dr. Strange will also be monitoring Jason as well. Hank, while you will come with us, I will need to ask you to take the X-Jet back here and monitor us from here. If we need the others to help us, you will be able to get her fast enough to help."

"As you wish, Professor," Hank said.

"I will talk to Jean and Scott about what will happen. In the meantime, prepare yourself for a lengthy stay in Oklahoma City. Hopefully, it will be a peaceful one."

"How long are we planning, Chuck?" Logan asked.

"I don't know. Hopefully, once Jason is released from the hospital the threat will decrease. But right now, it is certain that we must be there at all times."

"Understood, Professor," Ororo replied.

"I hope you all understand the gravity of the situation. I did not understand myself until I consoled with Dr. Strange."

"Do not worry, Professor. We will not fail," Piotr replied affirmatively.

The Professor smiled slightly. "Go. I shall talk to Jean and Scott."

The others left the room while the Professor sent out a telepathic message. _"Jean, Scott. Report to my office."_ A few minutes later, both Jean and Scott come into the office.

Jean spoke first. "What is it, Professor?"

"I have found out what power Jason possesses, as well as an ominous notion."

Jean and Scott looked at each other. "What can he do?"

"He's an alchemist; he can transmute anything into a different shape."

"What's so ominous about that?" Scott asked.

"His alchemic skill is linked to how much he knows about science, particularly in chemistry and physics. Alchemy changes objects by rearranging things at the subatomic level. In essence, he can chance molecular makeup if he saw fit. For instance, he could turn graphite, which is pure carbon, into diamond."

"Whoa…" Jean and Scott said in unison.

"Even then, I would still be selling Jason's potential short. He could very well become one of the most powerful mutants that have ever walked this earth."

"How did you find this out, Professor?" Jean asked.

"Hank was the first to enlighten me, but then I consulted with an associate of mine, Dr. Stephen Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme. He knows about alchemy and what it can do, so I needed to confirm my suspicions."

"What's going to happen now?" Scott said.

"I as well as Logan, Ororo and Piotr will go to Oklahoma City again and keep an eye on young Jason."

"Wait, just you guys? Why can the rest of us go?" Scott asked.

"I need you to stay here and wait. While I trust you, there's more to this problem then you can realize, and I'm not even sure if I fully realize it yet. Right now, you as well as Rogue, Kitty and Kurt will remain here. If we need help, Hank will have you all come as fast as possible."

"All right, Professor," Jean said. "Whatever you think is best."

"Thank you, Jean. That will be all."

With that, Jean and Scott left, leaving the Professor to think about what is coming. He's setting up the pieces, and he doesn't even know who is on the other side.

* * *

><p>While Scott and Jean were returning to their previous activities, Scott voiced his thoughts aloud. "I understand what the Professor wants us to do, I really do, but I still feel miffed about being left behind. We've been training hard for this. I think we can handle a little guard duty."<p>

"If it really was just as simple as guard duty, I'd agree with you, Scott. But did you see the Professor's eyes?"

Scott's brown eyebrows sank in confusion. "What about them?"

"He was disturbed. Something that Dr. Strange had told him had rattled him slightly. When I saw it, I was tempted to see his mind to see what was going on, but I couldn't…I just couldn't." Jean looked at Scott. "Frankly, Scott. I'm worried."

"I think they'll be fine, Jean…"

"Not them, Scott." Jean looked away, as if she was looking at someone that wasn't there. "Jason. When I first saw him, I saw a boy that was on the verge of tears, he almost lost the will to live. When he began to realize his powers, the spark returned to his eyes. He was ready to live again. And now…" Jean had to stop and breathe. "And now he's in danger again."

Scott finally began to understand. Jason was not only in danger to himself, but now danger from without was going to place more pressure on an already scarred man. If Jason gave in, the results may be disastrous. "What would I do without you, Jean, to help me think straight again."

Jean smiled. "Who knows?"

Scott smiled, but then sobered some. "Looks like we are doing what we can for now," Scott said. "We just now have to wait on the Professor."

"Yeah…" Jean said resignedly. "I need to work on my assignment again. Talk to you later, Scott!"

With that, Jean took off to her room. Scott watched her for a second, and then looked out the window, noticing how beautiful the sky was, but he felt that it would be more appropriate if an approaching thundercloud came on instead to fit the current mood. Scott sighed as he resignedly took his place on the sidelines for now.

The field was clear, but the sides were lining up. The very air thickened like soup as the tension built. The battle for Jason's soul was about to begin.


	6. Chapter 5: Opposing Forces

**CHAPTER 5:**** Opposing Forces**

* * *

><p><em>Undisclosed location; Wednesday, April 20<em>_th__, 2011; 7:13 PM_

One lone figure stood before several large screens displaying various readouts that the searcher in front of them had requested. He stood tall over the consoles in front of him. Adorned in brick-red armor, black pants and a large flowing purple cape, the man looked imposing as if he possessed power higher than any king. On top of his head was a metal helmet that hid everything in its shadow.

Erik Lehnsherr was a man that was raised during a time when a segment of humanity had sunk into barbarism, which led to the death of all his family save himself. He survived the Holocaust, but scarred. During the Nazi oppression of the Jewish race, his family tried to escape to Poland, but was captured. Eventually, Erik had ended up in Auschwitz but had survived long enough to be liberated by an American strike team. However, it was too late for Erik's love of humans.

As it turned out, he possessed the X-Gene which manifested during his torment. His power was the ability to manipulate metal through magnetism, as well as magnetic fields and atomic polarity. His powers were so focused that he could even lift object several thousand times heavier than he is, provided it was made of metal so he could magnetize it.

In 1949, he came to America in an attempt to get away from another growing threat in Europe: the Soviet Union. While stewing in his disdain for humanity, he was met by another mutant who had the power to read minds and control them to do whatever he wanted. With their mutual gifts, they became friends and aided each other for the benefit of mutantkind as both saw that mutants were becoming more numerous, and saw that soon they would be noticed by the public eye. This brought a great rift between him and his friend. His friend believed that humans and mutants could in fact co-exist in piece, after being inspired by the Civil Rights Movement going on at the time. Erik could not bring himself to accept that humans could in fact accept mutants. After what he saw in Germany, there was just no conceivable way they could co-exist. No, mutants had to rally together as one and fight for survival, even if that meant washing the earth of all traces of _Homo sapiens_.

Soon, Erik left the side of his friend to pursue his own goals, to organize a Brotherhood of Mutants to defend against the human threat. On that day, Erik Lehnsherr became someone else entirely:

Magneto.

It was now 2011. Magneto was technically and old man, yet somehow he retained a solid amount of his youth. He would not die now, not when mutantkind needed him. He would save mutants from the humans. He was the Savior of Mutantkind, the Master of Magnetism.

Something beeped on the console. Magneto looked at the new stream of data that just arrived. His operative in the field is calling in. Magneto allowed himself to smile; today was the day for pickup. Magneto had gone recruiting himself before, as well as his operative, but this recruiting was a very special one. Thanks to his operative, he saw what the child can do and now what he was capable of. To say that the boy would be a fine addition to the Brotherhood would be a gross understatement. With his power, Magneto wouldn't dare have him as a pawn. No, under his guidance, Magneto may make him a Lieutenant in the army he was building.

The call prompted again for Magneto to answer, and so he did.

"Magneto, everything is set up for tonight. I made sure that the father will not interfere. The rest of his family has already left back to wherever they live. It is only the boy now."

"Excellent. The time is almost at hand." Magneto's eyes shown gold under his helmet. "What of Charles?"

"They will be guarding the boy by staying on the rooftop. Charles and Storm have already left for the day, now only Wolverine and Colossus."

Magneto smiled in the shadows of his helmet. "Excellent. This shall provide us with a solid advantage that neither of them can fight. And even if Charles picks up our efforts, he will find himself outnumbered, let alone unable to interfere. What is the boy doing now?"

"He has not left the bed. He will be in room 252, on the side closest facing the window."

"Good. I and my Acolytes shall arrive after nightfall. When we do, I shall contact the boy directly. You shall stand outside and see to it that nothing interrupts us until I give you the signal. My Acolytes will pacify the two X-Men in the meantime."

"Then we are ready to begin."

"Jason will help us substantially with the upcoming war, and given the right incentive, quite willingly."

Magneto heard the ghost of a chuckle from his operative. "It is nearing sunset in this city."

"Very well. We will begin. Do not fail me."

"I will not, sir. Mystique never does."

* * *

><p>Mystique, in the form of a nurse, signed off from her contact with Magneto, left the maintenance stairwell of the hospital she had been charged in being in for the last several days. Jason was on the road to recovery, and she had heard that Jason would soon be discharged given the progress with his recovery went on without incident. But they could not wait; the Professor had already started reaching out to him. If he recovered without the Brotherhood making their move, Jason would be lost to them. They could not lose him, not the Xavier or anybody. They lost Rogue after a miscalculation by Mystique, and that error chafed the changeling. She wasn't going to make that mistake with Jason.<p>

With the father out of the way tonight, Jason was now open without interruption. The Acolytes, Magneto's handpicked lieutenants, would make sure the exchange between him and Magneto would go smoothly and uninterrupted. Everything was now coming together…

A quiet buzzing in Mystique's pocket interrupted her train of thoughts. Mildly annoyed, she looked at the communicator to see who was calling, and her annoyance faded to concern. She recognized that number. Opening the channel, she answered. "What is it, Irene?"

"Raven, are you in Oklahoma City right now?"

Mystique blanched. Irene was a mutant that whose mutant ability was to have amazing foresight and preconceptions. The changeling never told Irene where she was because she always knew. It was little wonder that Irene had adopted such a fitting codename: Destiny.

While Irene's foresight on Mystique's location did not surprise Mystique, the undertone disturbed her. "What did you see?"

"You must be careful, Raven. The boy, Jason, is in great danger."

Something inside Mystique fired up with anger. "Who?"

"No, Raven. No one is threatening his life, but even now his life stands upon the edge of a knife. If he is not careful, he will die before the sun rises."

Mystique felt her blood run cold. "What do you mean? How will he die?"

"I—I'm sorry…I can't see any further right now. Please, be careful with the boy. Goodbye, Raven."

"Wait, Irene!" It was too late. Destiny had already hung up. Alone, the changeling could only stare, letting it all sink in. Destiny was never wrong, she knew, but to say something so dooming right away…. Mystique reached the door of the maintenance stairwell that would take her to the floor where Jason was located. Hesitating slightly, she heard the voice of Destiny echo the warning in her head over and over. Destiny said to be careful, but how can you be careful for something you can't even see?

For the first time, Mystique began to have doubts about tonight.

* * *

><p>The sun was already sinking in the west that night in Oklahoma City. With billowing thunderheads threatening to drench the city come the night, it was an ominous but beautiful backdrop in the west as the sun's fading rays sculpted out the cauliflower-like structure of the storms. Upon the rooftop of the hospital, a tall muscular youth looked out at the skyline and wished immediately for his notepad. While he was the biggest—and arguably the strongest—on the team, he had a soft spot for the beauty of life, and loved to try to capture it in his artwork. As it turned out, young Piotr Rasputin was quite the talented artist.<p>

However, tonight was different than the other nights, and he couldn't waste time with his passion for art. There was a comrade that needed to be protected tonight. Of the two guarding the boy tonight, Piotr was probably the most emotionally connected to this mission. Only earlier this year, he had once served another "master," and only by some miracle had he come to the Institute to be free to use his power to help people…not hurt them. Before he came to the Institute, his years were woeful. His former master had him do things that made his heart ache, feeling like he was committing a great sin. While he did not believe in God, he still felt like he was inflicting humanity pain. While he had never done anything direct, the preparations were enough. He wanted so badly to leave…but…he could not…not without…

"Tin Man, report!"

Piotr shook right out of his dismal thoughts at hearing his communicator crackle with the voice of his comrade. Slowing down his mind, he answered. "I am here."

"You see anything?"

"No, comrade. No sign of trouble."

Piotr heard what he was sure was a sharp exhale on the other side. "Nothing here either, but I can feel something is up."

Piotr said nothing, but he knew enough about his comrade to know that when he said he felt like something was up, something was usually up. "I understand."

"Good. I'll take the north end, you cover the south end. Out."

"Yes, Wolverine." Piotr put the communicator in one of his belt-pockets, and then looked out at the sun again, seeing that it had just dipped below the horizon. The night was upon them, and very soon what was left of the light would diminish as well, ushering in what he hoped would be another peaceful night. It had been three days now, and no attempt was made by anyone to get to Jason.

Alone again, Piotr walked the rooftop of the hospital, allowing his thoughts to return. He tried not to remember the past, but he was ashamed of it. He hadn't been able to confide in anyone to talk to about what he believed was to be a colossal failure of moral conscience on his part. He couldn't even tell the Professor about his feelings, although he imagined the good Professor already knew about them, yet had not spoken to the trouble farm boy himself.

The youth looked down mournfully. He doubted he could ever forgive himself for betraying not only what his beloved father and mother had spent years teaching him, but betraying his own heart as well. There were some days that the pain was so great that he couldn't see anyone, and would lock himself away in his room, not eat, not even draw.

He knew that leaving the service of his old master was the right thing to do, especially since the X-Men helped him undo the chain he had been bound with. But…they couldn't unbind all the chains. One still bound him to his grief and depression. He was able to distract himself from it for a time by submersing himself into art, yet it only numbed the pain, only it would come back.

The great Colossus looked up to the darkening sky. He always told himself there was no God…but yet he searched the skies for the answer. Was he always going to grieve his stained soul? Or will he find that one person in whom he can confide his deepest darkest secret?

When that last question drifted past his mind's eye, he felt his heart thump differently, and he had to swallow. How could he even find love in this world if he couldn't even forgive himself? Maybe that question had already answered itself. He may never be able to confide in anyone.

The X-Men had been so gracious to him, but they didn't know how much he hurt. The Professor understood, but he didn't know his heart. His family loved him, but they didn't know his treachery. Several times, Piotr had thought about leaving the Institute to live alone, separate from anyone else so he could no longer hurt others, and that the only person he would ever harm would be himself, but somehow he stayed. Why? What hope was there for such a wretched soul as him? Maybe it was his time to go. He was only 17, but he felt that he must distance himself away from everyone, even his own family.

Perhaps after he was done here, he would leave…quietly. He knew he might be missed, but perhaps he could leave a note explaining his reasons…at least vaguely. But…he felt like he needed to go. He did too much wrong in his life…

…at least let him do this right.

* * *

><p><em>A few hours later…<em>

Jason couldn't sleep. That was the simple truth of it.

It was already after one o'clock in the morning, and for some reason, he wasn't a single bit tired. Something was keeping him awake, and it was about to drive him bonkers. Nearby, his father Patrick had actually gone to sleep sooner than usual and showed no sign of waking up. Earlier that evening, he had seen a nurse adjust his medication and then leave; shortly after, his father fell asleep. Jason had reasoned that perhaps that adjustment had toned down the pain enough for him to sleep. His father had to be in a lot of pain.

Jason was at times in pain as well, but he tried to tough it out. However, his head still felt funny since the surgery a few nights prior. The reports stated that he had multiple hematomas they cleaned out, causing the surgery to last several hours. When he finally came to, he was so out of it that doctors were nearly worried that brain function had been compromised. Thankfully, he managed to say "Am I ok?" much to the happiness of the surgical staff. Slowly, he was able to recollect everything and that it was assumed that his brain had not been damaged during the operation, and that his behavior before was purely coming off the anesthesia.

Still, the whole thing was a mind trip. For the next couple of hours, Jason felt extremely loopy, and it was only until a very long sleep afterwards did his brain return to normal…per se. Jason didn't remember much from those few hours, but he had some strange feeling he didn't want to know.

It was now early Thursday morning. He had been doing next to nothing but rest and recuperate. Occasionally, he was transferred to the physical therapy wing to stretch his legs and arms, mainly to just get him off his back. He noted mentally that his father may have to visit this place often to see what could be done about his legs, and was reminded of such when he saw a kid his age in a wheelchair. It had taken the rest of the day for Jason to shake off that memory on that day.

Jason looked out the window, noting that he saw on the weather earlier today that storms were expected tonight, although none were expected to be severe. Still, something about the mention of the storms made Jason's heart skip a beat with anxiety. Storms had never bothered him before, after growing up from his own fears of thunder as a little kid, but now…something about them terrified him. He had a hunch why he felt this way, but wasn't sure how to respond to such a hunch.

Maybe that was why he was awake. This anxiety was gnawing at him like a flea. Turning in his bed to place his back towards the window, he lay staring at the tray which contained his half-eaten supper that the CNAs hadn't quite gotten around to picking up yet, flanked by the steel fork on the side. Typical of hospital food, it was atrocious, but he managed to choke down some purely by the miracles of water. The rest merely rotted on top of the wheeled table that always stayed close to his bedside, while whatever he consumed was still working its way through his system.

It felt so strange; so much has happened in the past few days that it wasn't even funny. He was hurt badly, received a terrifying prognosis, but then was told that he was a mutant, "blessed" with a power that normal people couldn't even imagine. Even since that day, he hadn't had any other incidents with his power, mainly because he did his best to keep his hands apart. He never attempted to restore the blanket he changed back to its original form, mainly because he was never alone long enough to do so, not that he minded.

Strangely though, the Professor still had not gotten back to him about what his power really was. Was it supposed to take this long? For the past few days, the question of the nature of his power had been on his mind ever since the Professor himself had stated that he wasn't sure what it was. Jason had a guess that the Professor's claim on that had a deeper meaning, but he wasn't quite sure what it was.

As he looked at the food, he thought he saw the fork beside it move ever so slightly in his peripheral vision. Maybe it just wiggled a bit from settling. Jason smiled at the thought when out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw it move again. Jason locked both eyes on the fork, daring it to move while he was looking at it, yet it didn't move.

What the hell was he doing? He was having a stare down with a fork that he only thought was moving? Maybe he was more tired than he thought. Turning himself onto his back—although he still snuck a peek at it as he did—he tried to shake the "magical fork" from his mind and try to get some sleep. With one more glance to the fork, he closed his eyes and turned his head away from the table to sleep.

A few seconds later, he felt something brush by his face, and he looked. Nearly swearing, he saw the fork was now floating in the air only a foot or so away from his face. Any thought of sleep now long gone, he stared at the fork, eyes open like windows. He watched the fork float around in the air, always changing the way it pointed or even spun. He remembered that Jean was a telekinetic. Maybe she came back with the Professor and they wanted to talk again, and she was just playing around. Closing his eyes, he called out. _"Jean, is that you?"_

There was no answer. He tried again. _"Jean?"_ Still no answer. Maybe it wasn't Jean, plus it was rather strange to make a house call at one in the morning.

Yet the fork remained in front of him, sitting rock still as if it was sitting on something solid instead of in the air. Jason looked around, hesitating, and then he reached out for it. It didn't move as his fingers slowly curled around it. Suddenly, he felt resistance. He pulled on the fork, and it wouldn't budge from its place in the air. He pulled on it more, with both hands, but it wouldn't budge. For another several seconds, he tried unsuccessfully to move it, when it suddenly gave. He found himself sprawling back onto his back on the bed. The impact made him drop the fork as it clattered on the floor and out of sight.

Panting, he sat back up. "What the hell was that?"

"Is it such a surprise?"

Jason looked around the room, but saw nobody. "Who's there?"

"Someone like you…"

Jason looked around again, yet he couldn't find the source of the voice. Was it in his head again? No, this one sounded like it came from without. "Who are you?"

He heard a clicking sound, and he looked just in time to see the latch on the window slide open with unseen hands, followed by the window opening itself, letting in a cool breeze. Blinking, Jason looked out the window, but still couldn't see anyone; it was too dark. He looked back inside the room.

"I'm not in the mood for games."

"Neither am I."

Jason looked out the window again, and then he saw him, and swore. There, floating outside the window was a figure of a man, floating by unseen force. He was coming closer and soon climbed into the large window. In the light that came from the hall, he briefly glimpsed red armor, a purple cape, and a brick-red helmet that covered all the features of the face, except two eyes that seemed to glow in the dark.

The figure raised a hand towards the door, and it shut. Jason watched it shut. Now, in the darkness, he was alone with a stranger that apparently also had telekinesis. "Ok…you're really starting to freak me out."

The figure made a sound like a soft chuckle, and it gave Jason the creeps. "I do not wish to frighten you, young man. I'm here to help you."

Jason managed a nervous smile. "You have a funny way of showing it."

"Possibly, but it is not intentional."

Jason's eyes began to refocus to match the darkness, and thus he could now see the outline of the man. He seemed well built, and a good amount taller than Jason. The cape added to how imposing this man was. "Who are you, exactly?"

"I am like you, as are so many others in this world."

Jason had an inkling he knew what this guy meant, but asked anyway. "What do you mean, like me?"

"Surely you know. There are many questions in your mind, young Jason."

Jason blanched. "How do you know my name?"

"I've been watching you, Jason, ever since your own dealings with nature a few days prior."

Jason felt his heart get cold. "I…I don't know what you are talking about."

"Don't be afraid, Jason, and certainly don't be afraid of me. I have no intentions of harming you, because you are a blessed person, yet you think you are cursed. You may think of yourself as such as the pain lances through your arms and fingertips, and you are frightened at the thought of what your family may think once they know that you are different than them. But you are special, Jason. Your power is not a curse, but a blessing. Nature has chosen you to become something more than human."

Jason's back was now soaked with cold sweat. This creep somehow knew not only knew his name, but his pain down to the details. He even knew about the "accident." He then remembered that Jean and the Professor were both telepathic; maybe this guy was another one. "Are you a telepath?"

"No, but I have felt what you have felt. We all have. I understand the pain that you are enduring. When I was close to your age, my own powers had awakened. I was scared at first, but then I realized that I was feared. At first, it hurt to be feared, and this same pain you will endure as you are discovered."

"Discovered?"

"Jason, do you honestly believe that these pathetic people will accept you as friends…or even family…once they hear that you are a god among insects? No, they will reject you, despise you, and even try to hurt you. You will live alone, hiding in shame, fear and self-loathing. This need not happen."

He was right on the money with Jason's feelings. He always wondered how he was going to tell his parents that he was a mutant, and he choked at the thought of being rejected. "What do you mean?"

"You have the ability to rise up above anyone around you, to embrace who you are: _Homo superior_. You are part of the next step of evolution, Jason. Nature has given you this step. You can step up and take it as your own.

"I offer you…sanctuary. There are many more like us, Jason. I'd like you to meet them."

Jason looked down. More or less, this was a lot like what the Professor had told him, yet to a different tune. His brain tried to reconcile the two offers that he had received, and found that he couldn't tell them apart. Jason looked up again, not bothering to hide his confusion. "What's your name?"

"I am Magneto, the Master of Magnetism. As you might have seen, I can manipulate magnetic fields and all kinds of metal with them." He lifted one hand, and Jason saw something glimmer in the darkness: the fork he dropped.

Jason watched mystified as Magneto caused the fork to change, slowly but surely turning into a flat metal disc that shimmered in the moonlight that leaked in through the open window.

"Will you come with me, Jason?"

That struck Jason as odd. "But it's too soon for me to get out of the hospital."

"Don't be afraid. I only wish to show you something. Once I have, I shall bring you back here, I promise."

Jason looked away, thinking. Being away from the bed couldn't hurt too much, right? "Ok, but let's not be gone for too long. The nurses love to check in."

"Of course. Now, keep your left arm still."

Jason was about to ask why, when he saw the IV untighten, then withdraw from his arm. While the attachment was still there, the hose that connected him to the IVs drifted away and was hung up. Magneto was certainly good at what he did. Slowly rising from his bed, he stepped off, trying not to wake up his father. Looking back at him to make sure, he saw that he was still asleep like nothing had happened. Jason then looked up to Magneto, now aware of how tall he was. "Let's make this fast."

* * *

><p><em>Sanctum Sanctorum, 7:02 AM GST<em>

Dr. Strange was in the midst of his early morning meditating when he sensed something in the astral plane…some kind of disturbance. Focusing the Eye of Agamotto towards it, he saw the astral figure of a young boy, wrapped in bandages, facing a shadowy figure whose eyes peered out under an iron-clad helmet.

The sorcerer's eyes opened. The enemy is advancing.

* * *

><p>Logan prowled the rooftops of the hospital, eyes open and nostrils flared. The looming thunderheads were closing in, but he could no longer see them anymore. While rain didn't bother him, being on a rooftop during a thunderstorm was not a desirable circumstance. Plus, rain bogged down one of his most trusted senses: his smell.<p>

Logan was a mutant like everyone else at the Institute, but he was something else among them. Logan was quite the animal, as he could hear and smell things on a slightly more advanced level to humans, and could be compared to what dogs could smell and hear. In addition, he also had retractable claws like a cat that would come out from the space between his metacarpals on each hand, piercing through the flesh as they did. While this was painful, it was coupled by an extreme healing factor. Logan could heal just about any would in a matter of seconds, which was very advantageous at times. Coupled with a blinding pain tolerance and a fierce temper, Logan earned his other name deservedly: Wolverine.

Despite his long association with the Institute, Logan was always a bit of a lone wolf, and always needed to get out and roam. He was a wanderer, and one hell of a fighter. Very few people knew just how Logan learned how to fight like he does, but just as many people would want to face such an animal like the Wolverine head-on.

Now he was here, playing the guard dog for a young boy that the Professor was deeply concerned about. While playing the guard dog wasn't necessarily his style, his respect for the Professor and for what the Institute does kept him here.

Despite the fact it was dark, Logan was somewhat aware that he was still rather visible. His uniform was unique among the X-Men: orange on black, sleeveless, and the most identifying feature was wings on the coal that made his fearsome demeanor all the more frightening, as they made his eyes look bone white and angry. Still, the orange made him visible during the night, which sometimes blew his cover if he wasn't careful. He was considering having his costume redone so it would be at least darker. Of course, none of the other X-Men were stealth-minded with their wardrobe selections either.

Logan sniffed the air repeatedly. Currently, all he could smell was the dampness of the oncoming storms and whatever else the wind carried his direction. As he stood like a gargoyle on the rooftop railing, he was aware that the wind was in his face. Any smell downwind would be masked away from him unless he changed positions.

As he turned, he thought he heard something akin to the sound of blades unsheathing. Instinctively, he jumped behind one of the massive generators on top of the roof, just as four spears ripped through the air. Had Wolverine been any slower, he would have been skewered in four places. Logan growled. He knew of only one that could do something like that.

Lady Deathstrike.

Leaping back in view, deploying his own claws, he crouched defensively just as the slender figure of a woman of Oriental origins stepped into view. Her nails on her right hand were extended to create the spears, and they all gleamed like silver. Instantly sheathing her claws, he smiled as her silver eyes looked down upon Logan. "You never change, Weapon X. I like that."

Wolverine snarled at hearing that name. "What are you doing here, Oyama…?"

The woman's eyes glittered. "Oh, you know…" Deathstrike suddenly lashed out with extended claws again. Logan dived backwards as her claws tore up the roofing with ease.

Logan charged with a yowl with some slicing of his own. Claw met claw, ringing into the night with each blow. Logan knew about this woman: Lady Deathstrike was a lot like him: had a healing factor, had adamantium claws—that could outreach his by far—and was extremely agile. Wolverine had traded blows with Lady Deathstrike during his time in Japan, a memory he wasn't too fond of. It didn't help that Deathstrike was psychotic.

Logan dashed in and out of hiding, striking where he could, but this mutant was a hard one to hit, let alone kill. His hose flared and his teeth bared, he moved quickly between the generators, striking into the shadows as he smelled her out. A couple of times though, she found him and it was a brutal clash.

Logan leaped into the open, knowing that Lady Deathstrike would have to strike out there eventually, so he waited. That same second, he dodged to the side as the woman dived at him from above, claws extended. Logan recovered himself as Deathstrike removed her claws from the roofing. "Not bad…for a man."

Logan growled; he wasn't going to fall for that kind of talk. "And you're no lady…"

Lady Deathstrike frowned. "And you are no gentleman!"

And thus they clashed again. Logan wondered if Colossus had heard the ruckus, and if he did…where was he?

* * *

><p>Piotr thought he heard something behind him. Standing up, he saw the figure of Wolverine behind him. "What's wrong?"<p>

"Shh…" Wolverine raised one hand, and started to sniff the air.

Instantly, Piotr was on the alert. However, he didn't transform into his metal-skin just yet as that did make noise. He merely stood alert and scanned the area. Lacking Logan's sensitive smell and hearing, Piotr could only depend on what Logan would say.

Wordlessly, Logan stepped away very quietly, still sniffing the air. Piotr tried to do the same, yet it was difficult to move 250 pounds of solid muscle quietly. Ever so slowly, he followed Logan into the shadow of a large generator on the roof, hidden from any eye. Here, Logan froze, as did Piotr. Without warning, Logan looked right at Piotr. "He's coming closer." He then peered out from behind the generator, looking like a hawk. Piotr watched for a while, and then he looked around the other side in a crouch.

Piotr looked and looked, but saw nothing. Whispering, he called to Logan. "Do you see anything?"

"No, now shut up and keep looking."

Piotr wordlessly obeyed. Ever so slowly, he turned his back to Wolverine, knowing that he had his back. The night seemed like it couldn't get any quieter, and it made Piotr nervous, making his depression evaporate like the sweat that was beginning to build on him now.

Suddenly, he heard was sounded like metal clinging on the other side of the hospital. "What is that?"

There was no answer from Logan. Turning to check up on him, he suddenly got a face-full of towel that was soaked in something sweet-smelling. Recoiling and coughing, he looked into the face of his attacker, and saw the figure of Wolverine. Shocked, he inquired "Logan! Why…" The huge teen began to feel lightheaded, and dropped to his knees. Struggling to remain awake, he looked up, just in time to see that the form of Wolverine was replaced with the figure of a blue-skinned woman with red hair look down upon him with her yellow serpentine eyes.

Piotr then collapsed in a sleep, groaning as he did. Mystique looked down upon him with a smile. "Well, that was easy."

* * *

><p>Magneto had taken Jason to the rooftop of the hospital, by having the boy stand upon the metal disk and then carry him up with magnetism. Jason had a bit of a fright when he realized how high he was up from the ground, yet Magneto didn't drop him, figuratively. Upon arriving on top the roof, Jason looked around in the darkness, seeing all the lights of the city still alive despite the late hour. It was quite the sight to behold. However, he doubted that Magneto had taken him here for that.<p>

He didn't have the chance to enquire thereof, for Magneto had already started to converse. "You ever wonder about yourself, Jason?"

Jason blinked, aware that the air was colder then he thought it was. Being clothed in only scrub pants didn't help either, and the bandages that wrapped around his chest did nothing to combat the chill. Suppressing a shiver, he asked. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Do you ever wonder how you came to obtain such a gift that you have?"

"You mean…" Jason looked at his hands, no longer bandaged, yet the fingers still twitched as if they crackled with electricity. Willing himself not to rub his hands together, he finished his thought. "…my powers?"

"Yes, how nature intended you to be. Isn't it a marvelous thing?"

Jason had to frown. "Right now, it seems like a curse." Curling his hands into fists to stem the pain, he continued. "My hands are killing me."

"Indeed, and with such a power that you hold, it is little wonder."

"Yeah? How do you—" Jason's eyes suddenly shot open when the meaning of Magneto's statement finally sank in. "Magneto…what can I do?"

Beneath his helmet, Magneto gave a ghost of a surprised look. "You don't know?"

Jason couldn't help but feel perturbed at such a question. "If I knew, would have I asked?" Magneto looked thoughtful, and for some time, he remained silent. Needless to say, Jason grew impatient as the seconds ticked by. "Why is everyone being secretive about what my powers are? The Professor, now you…why am I not supposed to know?"

"The Professor did not tell you?" Magneto finally inquired.

"No, he didn't because he said he wasn't even—" Jason cut himself off as he replayed Magneto's last words in his head. "Wait, you know him?"

"Indeed, for far longer than you have been alive. However, I find it unusual that he has not been forthcoming about your powers…unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Unless…" Magneto looked at Jason. "…he is afraid of you."

Jason was silent; he wasn't expecting that kind of response. "What do you mean?" he managed to say after a few confused seconds.

"Charles has often expressed fear of mutants that have 'too much power.' He fears that if one has too much power, he would become uncontrollable." Magneto looked away to the horizon. "I wonder how many students he housed has he held back because he feared they would become too powerful…"

Jason's brow sank over his eyes slightly at that statement, and was he imagining it or did he hear a note of bitterness in it? "So…is he really afraid of me?"

"It appears so," Magneto said calmly.

Jason felt his insides freeze at such a proposition. A telepath was afraid of him? What would the Professor do to him if Jason was indeed a threat to him?

Jason had to swallow several times before speaking. "…am I that powerful?"

"You are."

"I sure don't feel like it."

"Because you do not know your potential. Once you do, you will find that you have great power."

"But what can I do?" Jason cried out. "You haven't even told me!"

"It would be insane for me to delve out all that you can do…for your power is without bounds."

Jason caught his breath. "Without…bounds?" Jason then shook his head incredulously. "That can't be right."

"Never let your own fears nor others determine your limits, Jason. You can do things humans have dreamed of doing since the Middle Ages, and so much more. Do you not realize what a wonderful power you have? All matter is at your command, ready to be shaped to however you please…"

"Step up and claim your seat in the universe…my young alchemist."

Jason blanched. "An alchemist?" He had heard of alchemists in world history class. They were chosen scientists who theorized that it was possible to turn lead into gold, if he remembered right. "That doesn't make sense! Alchemists were so-called 'wizards' in the Dark Ages that tried and failed to make gold, and there hasn't been any record that they even succeeded."

"'Not any record?'" Magneto said doubtfully. "You find the teachings within human history books credible? Humans wrote them, and humans lie."

Jason couldn't find an answer, and could only stand and sputter.

"Just how many lies are you going to believe, Jason? You are an alchemist. Alchemists believed that if one could summon the powers of the universe, he could change any form of matter to however he saw fit. _You_ have that power, Jason. When you clap your hands together, you summon the forces of the universe to your command: to change anything into anything else."

Jason suddenly felt his knees get weak, and thus he sank upon them. In complete disbelief, he looked at his twitching hands. "Oh my God!" he managed to yelp. Without thinking, he brought them to his head.

Jason grunted in pain as the pain in his hands magnified. Magneto watched as green bolts of energy laced Jason's hands and fingertips, completely fascinated. "Don't fear them, Jason. Use them!"

Jason could barely hear him through the pain. The only thing he knew what to do is to get rid of the pain and now! Jason feel forward onto his hands and knees rather forcefully. A wave of energy shot from his hands in a line along the roofing.

Magneto watched with scientific fascination as the roofing stretched and turned into thorn-sharp spikes, each varying from a few inches to a couple of feet long. "Impressive. Crude, but impressive. I have seen many displays of power, young Jason, but I have seen nothing like what you can do."

Jason had not moved, even after the pain had abated. Gasping, he slowly felt his right side and found it difficult to breathe for some reason. He remembered that his ribs were in no shape for a lot of things right now, and his near fall to the ground had not helped. He worked himself back up to his knees, all the while clutching his right side, and saw just what he had did. "Damn it…"

Magneto looked at Jason. "You still see it as a curse? You can make this damaged roofing as good as new. Why don't you try?"

Jason looked up at Magneto, and nearly had to crane his neck to do so. Jason looked back down again insecurely. "I don't know…"

Jason could imagine Magneto looked at him disapprovingly, and he imagined right. "Do not be weak! That is unbecoming of a god."

Jason looked up again angrily. "I'm not a god! I'm…" Jason lowered his gaze again self-condescendingly. "…only human."

Magneto scowled from underneath his helmet, but said nothing.

Jason didn't look up at all; he couldn't work up the courage to look into the other's eyes. "What did you bring me up here for?"

"To provide an illustration." Magneto turned to the city. "You see this place? While nothing compared to other human establishments, it's a testament to what humanity can do. Yet, despite such achievements, underneath is depravity. Humans won't think twice to kill their brothers if it profits them. Human history is nothing but a testament written in blood, strife and persecution. Humans will always persecute anything different from them, despite when united they can accomplish feats unlike other species before them…

"…until now. Evolution has now deemed humanity inefficient and has now proceeded to make a new race, a mutant race." Magneto turned to Jason. "We are the inheritors of the Earth, young Jason, and we've been blessed with the means to do so. Once we all thought that humans would be the dominant species of the planet, and that has certainly been the case for hundreds of thousands of years. Yet now, that has changed. _We_ are fast becoming the dominant species of the planet."

Jason listened to Magneto with a strange expression slowly etching itself on his face. Was this guy for real?

"However, if the humans have their way, they will destroy us. You know as well as I do that humans always fear what they do not understand. Look at the four-hundred year slavery of the children of Israel in Egypt, the persecution of the Christians in ancient Rome, the Spanish Inquisition over religious differences. I can list more examples of human depravity due to racism or sensationalism: Nazi Germany, the Iron Curtain, the Tibetan oppression. Humans reek of bloodshed for superiority."

Jason had to hand it to this man: he was right. It was also a fact of life that history was a broken record, particularly when fools would repeat the mistakes woven so elaborately in the annals of history. Yet, there was something fishy about this man's presentation.

"Yeah…so what does this have to do with me?"

"We are next on humanity's list, Jason. Mutants are hated and feared. It is only a matter of time before even the so-called land of tolerance will turn on its morals and sentence us to slavery or death. Every man, woman and child that are blessed will be marked, captured, imprisoned…" Magneto's eyes shimmered from underneath his helmet. "…killed."

Jason could feel Magneto's fury radiating off of him. "I will not stand by and watch my people slaughtered while humans do nothing diplomatically. So, I seek out my brethren, tell them of our plight and invite them to take shelter with us: the Brotherhood of Mutants."

"_The Brotherhood of Mutants?" _Jason thought. "Just how many of you—us are there?"

"Sadly, a small number. Many of my kind are either too frightened or too ashamed to be associated with their own kind, while others are blinded by idealism."

"What do you mean?"

"There are some mutants who believe that humans and mutants can in fact co-exist together peacefully, despite humanity's long history otherwise."

Jason blinked in surprise, finally managing to look up. "Well, yeah, but there _were_ times when people actually were able to convince the idiots in authority that they _could_ co-exist, like Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr."

"Indeed, yet it took almost two-hundred years for the United States to accept that, and hundreds more for the rest of the world…roughly speaking. Yet other times, a more violent lesson needed to be taught. Nazi Germany was exterminated by six long years of war. Also, according to the Bible, didn't the God of the Israelites slaughter the first-born of Egypt, and then send the armies of Egypt to a watery grave to allow the Israelites to live in peace?"

Jason had to swallow, his mind starting to race to find another example otherwise. "The Christians in Rome didn't even fight back; they merely endured."

From beneath his helmet, Magneto frowned. "Yes, only to become the Holy Roman Empire that would quickly instigate hatred and persecution of Jews, Muslims _and_ Protestants."

Jason couldn't answer that. He had a point.

"The Muslims too seek to crush the Jews because their own Qur'an views them as scum to be purged, and that has lasted since the establishment of that religion, not to mention on whom they see as 'infidels.' So the Middle East is always in a state of war.

"Mutants are next, and the move to exterminate mutants is already beginning in the corners of the world. It will not be long before the entire world knows of us…and will try to exterminate us. We must unite…"

Jason let this sink in…and followed Magneto's implications to the end of the trail. "You're building an army. That's what this 'Brotherhood' is, isn't it? An army of mutants!"

Magneto looked at Jason. "I am gathering our people together into a safe haven, away from all humanity. Should humanity deem it best to attack us then…we must fight to save ourselves."

"Is that why you want me to come with you? So I can use my powers to…attack people?" Jason seemed revolted at the thought. Jason hadn't even started fights in school, and he couldn't even imagine using his powers to hurt and…kill people. He suddenly began to feel sick.

As he sat there, he heard something. He looked around, trying to listen to it. It sounded like a swordfight. "What is that?"

Magneto looked up and over Jason, towards the other end of the hospital. "It seems one of my Acolyte is engaging another of…differing viewpoints."

Jason looked back at Magneto. "Acolyte?"

"Indeed. My Acolytes are my hand-picked followers for our goal for the preservation of mutant-kind. They too are powerful, yet I doubt any of them are as powerful as you."

Jason couldn't tell if Magneto was being honest or just patronizing him, so he remained silent.

"Perhaps you should meet her, as well as one other." With that, Magneto held up a hand towards the sound of the fighting.

* * *

><p>Wolverine was in a locked-claw match with Lady Deathstrike when he suddenly had the feeling like he was being pulled. Suddenly, he was forced apart from the sharp-clawed woman, who looked initially surprised, then smiled as she realized what was going on.<p>

Wolverine finally knew what was going on himself. "Oh…damn it."

He was whisked away at incredible speeds towards the other end of the hospital, when he was suddenly stopped, then spun around to view his captor. Wolverine growled; he knew it.

* * *

><p>Jason had only waited a few seconds to see what Magneto had in mind, when suddenly a man in a rather feral looking costume was whisked into view. Jason let out a choice expletive in surprise whole Magneto only smiled.<p>

"I can smell your adamantium skeleton miles away…Wolverine." Magneto then briskly lowered his hand.

Wolverine suddenly slammed into the ground with enough force so that Jason felt it underneath his feet. Groaning—which sounded like unhappy growling—he lay there completely paralyzed at the mercy of Magneto.

"This…is one of your Acolytes?" Jason said.

"No, he is one of Charles' X-Men. My Acolyte should be here shortly as to be expected. This here is the Wolverine."

"X-Men? Wolverine?"

"Yes, the Professor's own personal army. Didn't you accuse me of building an army, Jason? It seems Charles himself is building one of his own with his Institute."

Jason blanched. The Professor had offered for him to join the Institute with him mere days ago. Jason saw the metal claws that seemed to come right out of this man's hands; they looked deadly. Was it true then? Was he really going to be recruited to become a weapon?"

"Don't…listen to bucket-head, Jason!" Wolverine managed to say. "Magneto will turn you into a weapon! We're…not the ene—" Wolverine was suddenly cut off as his jaw slammed shut, causing his teeth to smart.

"It seems even your jaw is encased in that adamantium of yours," Magneto said. "How convenient."

Wolverine growled as his jaw was completely immobilized, but had to grin. "I can still speak through my teeth, bub!"

"Well, we can't have that, now can we?" came a female voice, one Wolverine was too familiar with by now.

A swift kick from the dark to the back of Logan's head silenced him for now. Jason gasped as a woman, dressed in a grey trench-coat like gown, stepped into the light. She sat down on the back of the unconscious Wolverine and looked at Jason with her silver eyes. It gave Jason the creeps.

"So, this is the promising prospect…" the woman purred. "Doesn't look like much."

"Looks are deceiving." Magneto said to her, then looked at Jason. "This is my Acolyte: the Lady Deathstrike."

Jason couldn't answer, or even say hello. Something about this woman chilled him to the bone more than the night chill did.

Lady Deathstrike smiled at the frozen Jason. "You should stop staring, child. You're making me blush."

"No time for frivolity, Deathstrike. We are running out of time. Has Mystique incapacitated the other X-Man?"

Lady Deathstrike peered into the darkness. "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

Jason finally broke out of his frozen look at that statement, as he looked around. He then heard footsteps coming towards him from the shadows. Standing up finally, he turned to see who was coming. Coming out of the shadows was a large hulking figure that looked like it was carrying another large hulking figure. Stepping into the light, Jason was instantly confused to see that it was a man, not a woman, and looked like a being completely encased in gleaming metal, with a black uniform on top of it all, decorated with a badge with an "x" on it. The new stranger dropped the unconscious figure, and Jason was instantly shocked to see that it was the same person, except one was metal, the other not. The metal one spoke in a heavy Russian accent. "I have completed the objective, master."

Jason's gaze went from one of the two, then to the other, and back again. "What's going on here? How is this man a 'she'?"

Lady Deathstrike smiled knowingly. "How indeed…?"

The hulking metal figure made a face that didn't appear to belong to him. "Oh, Jason, is it really so unbelievable?" With that, the figure shrunk and began to change shape very quickly. Jason watched with morbid awe as the hulking figure turned into the slim azure figure of a woman with rather reptilian yellow eyes and brilliant red hair. Her dress was tight-hugging and white with cobalt-blue sleeves and leggings, along with white tall boots, and decorated with a skull belt. Placing a hand on her hip, she said with a smile. "After all, you can change things yourself."

Jason was shocked. Magneto was right about there being some powerful mutants out there, and this shape shifter was certainly one of them. However, he grew confused as he looked at Lady Deathstrike again. "You're a mutant too?"

Lady Deathstrike didn't move for a couple of seconds, but only continued to smile, which disturbed Jason. "Do you really want to see?"

That question unnerved Jason enough. "Uh…no."

Magneto decided to cut in. "You see here another one of Charles' X-Men, Jason." Magneto motioned to the unconscious man at the blue woman's feet. "He was one of my Acolytes, but betrayed me."

Jason looked at the large figure, wondering how he was a mutant. "Is he all right?"

Deathstrike smiled. "My, the child is a compassionate one…" Then she scowled. "All too much like the fools on the ground."

Jason looked at the woman. "You're saying I shouldn't care?"

"You must forgive my Acolyte, Jason. Compassion is something she was unfortunate not to feel…"

Lady Deathstrike merely crossed her arms.

"Your compassion for your fellow mutant is an admirable trait, Jason," said Magneto. "I too feel sorry for my fellow mutants who have been led astray."

"You're the one who's 'astray,' bub!" Wolverine said.

Lady Deathstrike frowned. "You can't keep quiet, can't you?"

"It takes a lot more than that to keep me quiet, bitch!"

"Oh, is that so?" Lady Deathstrike struck Wolverine again on the back of his head, causing him to lay still.

"Leave him alone!" Jason cried out.

Lady Deathstrike only looked at Jason with a dark smile, as Jason winced when he saw those silver eyes again.

"I grow tired of this, Jason." The blue woman said.

"Be still, Mystique," Magneto said. "The boy must have the time he needs to make a decision." Turning to Jason again, he said. "I know you have second thoughts about the probability of us going to war with the humans, but that is inevitable. However, if you feel like you cannot fight, there is still a place within the Brotherhood for you."

Jason looked up, seemingly hopeful. "Really?"

"Indeed. With training, you can help us build a new nation, a mutant nation. Your powers can create anything we will need for peace and protection."

Jason remembered that his project at the science fair was to create a lightweight but durable armor weave that could save soldier's lives on the battlefield. He wanted to protect with them, not hurt.

"Right now, you need to be kept safe so that you can have the opportunity to become what you want to be. Come with us, Jason, and become anyone you wish to be."

Jason had to admit, it was a very tempting offer. He had a gift, and although he didn't quite know how to use it, he was given the chance to use it for what he wanted to do with it. However, his mind went to the Professor and Jean who had helped him with the first parts of it. They seemed sincere with him, but he then saw the X-Men in front of them, and Magneto told him that it seemed that the Professor wanted his alchemic talents for his X-Men. Soldiers. Magneto had asked to help him fight as well, but he then offered to let him use them to protect others like him. Nothing was wrong with wanting to use his powers to help others like him. Right?

So why was his heart aching, making him hesitate?


	7. Chapter 6: Thunder

**CHAPTER 6:**** Thunder**

* * *

><p>At the hotel where he and Ororo were staying the nights, Professor Charles Xavier was sound asleep in the bed when he felt the mental prodding of someone trying to get his attention. To a psychic, this was essentially the equivalent of shaking someone awake. Waking up, he immediately sat up and probed the psychic realm for what had disturbed him.<p>

He found the culprit at once. _"Stephen, what's wrong?"_ In his mind's eye, he could see the blue astral form of Dr. Strange hovering before him.

The form spoke to Xavier. _"Magneto has moved in on Jason, and now has both Wolverine and Colossus captive. Magneto brought along Mystique and Lady Deathstrike."_

The Professor's eyes dilated at the last name. Logan had told him much about her, but to have a mind like hers near Jason, now of all times…

"_We must move quickly. I must get the rest of the X-Men here and quickly. Can you stall them until then?"_

"_More powerful foes I have faced in the Dark Dimension, yet the odds are greater here. I will stall them to the best of my ability."_

"_Thank you, Dr. Strange."_

"_You're welcome, old friend. I must be off!"_

With that, the form of Dr. Strange disappeared in the Professor's mind. The Professor reached to a box on the nightstand, and opened it. Inside was a helmet-like device with a couple of tubes leading to a small box. Withdrawing these, he placed the helmet on his head and switched on the device. Instantly, he felt his telepathic powers magnify ten-fold, reaching even high into the skies. He concentrated and his thoughts shot to the Institute, seeing it bathed in the moonlight on that night. His mind searched the Institute for Hank McCoy, who should be monitoring the controls outside Cerebro. Yes, he was there. Closing his eyes, he sent out a telepathic wave to him. _"Hank, it's Professor Xavier."_ He could sense the blue-furred beast jump at this announcement, but there was no time for subtlety. _"Prep the Blackbird. Jason is in danger and we need reinforcements now!"_

"_Yes, Charles. At once!"_ Hank's thoughts echoed weakly because of the distance, but thanks to the Portable Cerebro Interface, the Professor could read them.

The Professor then focused his mind on select minds elsewhere in the Institute. "Scott, Jean, Kitty, Kurt, Rogue. Wake up! Hank is prepping the X-Jet for immediate launch. Suit up and go for the hangar!"

After a few seconds, Jean's thoughts filtered through. "Is Jason in trouble?"

"Yes, great danger. All of you must make haste, or we may lose Jason. Quickly now!"

The Professor removed the helmet interface and turned it off, looking grim. The X-Jet was very capable of supersonic speeds, but it would still take some time for it to come here even at max speed. Dr. Strange best be capable at his delaying tactics…

…as well as Storm. The Professor opened his mind again and sent out another telepathic wave. _"Ororo, wake up and suit up. Jason is in danger and you must try to delay Magneto until reinforcements arrive!"_

"_Yes, Professor. Do you wish me to take you to the hospital?"_

"_There's no time, Ororo. I'll monitor the situation with the PCI."_

"_All right. I'll be off as soon as I can."_

The Professor only nodded, and then waited as he worked himself upwards and towards his nearby parked wheelchair. As he did, he got hit with a sickening wave of foreboding. The pieces were moving now, and unless he was careful, the battle would be lost. And Jason was caught in the middle, and when one was caught in the middle of a battle, he always lost.

The Professor climbed into his wheelchair as he focused his mind to analyze the situation on the hospital roof. Jason was with Magneto and everyone else and was in a state of quandary. The Professor considered sending a telepathic message to Jason, but undoubtedly he would react to it, and Magneto would pick up on it right away.

The Professor had no choice but to resign to do nothing but monitor the situation.

"_Be strong, Jason, for you have no idea the strength of the forces you are now contending with."_

* * *

><p>Jason's heart and head were at war. His head was telling him that this was a perfectly acceptable offer, and that because of the inevitable persecution he would be facing, strength and protection in numbers would help to live a relatively safe life. Also, Magneto said himself that he didn't even have to fight, but only help protect with his power. And who knows? During peace time, he could use them to help build whatever once he got the hang of using his powers properly. It seemed perfect…<p>

…until his heart knocked hard at the door. Jason felt his conscience tap hard on his shoulder and consider that Magneto may have an ulterior motive for needing Jason, and that Jason wouldn't be sheltered: he would be used. Moreover, how could he know Magneto was even telling the truth? He just about literally came out of nowhere, and seemed to know everything Jason was going through, and how the hell did he know that anyway?

The more Jason considered the choice in front of him, the more clouded his mind became. Jason could no longer think, and it made his head hurt…or maybe…his head actually was hurting. He'd been off of the morphine drip for some time now, and as the opiate started to be filtered out by his liver and kidneys, the pain would return.

If that pain came back full force at any time, Jason would be completely incapacitated, let alone unable to make any rational decision at all.

"Tch, bub, why are you such a goddamn liar?"

Wolverine's question distracted Jason enough to pay attention to the downed mutant, but he was not alone.

"Why do you continue to fight with me, Wolverine?" Magneto asked. "You should hate the humans for what they did to you. I can offer you what you want most."

Wolverine spat. "What do you know about what I want most, when you can't even give what the kid wants most?"

That stunned Jason. "What do you mean?"

Wolverine continued to fight the magnetism, but couldn't move. He wasn't even allowed to look at Jason. However, he would be damned if he wasn't heard. "What do you think you want most? Know what I think? I _don't _think it has anything to do with your powers."

Jason blanched at the claim. He looked at his hands and thought about what he wanted most, and at once his mind began to process what he meant.

Magneto however was furious. "You know nothing, fool!" Magneto shouted, startling Jason out of his stupor. Magneto pushed one hand out further, forcing Wolverine into the ground with one hand. Wolverine grunted as he was being compressed by magnetism, causing his lungs to feel tight around his ribcage, making it difficult to breathe.

Jason gasped as he saw Wolverine's torment. "Stop it!" he cried earnestly.

Magneto looked at Jason, momentarily, and then loosened his grip on Wolverine, allowing him to breathe again.

Wolverine managed to breathe again. "See, kid? Magneto will do the same to you if you refuse."

Jason looked at the struggling mutant in near disbelief, and then shot a poisonous glance at Magneto. "Is that true?"

"I promised you that I would. Why should you believe him over me?"

"Because you can't take 'no' for an answer, pops," Wolverine growled.

Magneto glowered at Wolverine again, but it was Lady Deathstrike who spoke next. "I hate annoying men."

Jason had to put a hand to his head; he felt like his head was a balloon about to burst. This was too much to think about, and the shots that Wolverine was putting in was merely more air into his head. "I…I can't think about this right now."

"There is no time for delay…" Magneto began.

Jason had enough. "Quiet!" Clapping his hands to his head, he tried to suppress his headache, only to feel his arms burn again with the shocks. Screaming in agony, he fell to his knees again, slapping his hands on the ground. At once, a transmutation field erupted from him, surrounding him.

At first, Magneto smiled at seeing Jason perform his power, but grew alarmed as the transmutation field was ten times bigger than last time, and spreading. He was relieved when it diminished before it reached him…but looked puzzled. What did Jason just inadvertently do? He then saw it, and was amazed: _fog_. Jason had cooled the air enough to cause the moisture in the air to cause the water droplets to condense to become a cloud. The cloud dissipated quickly in the warm evening, blown away from the wind, leaving Jason soaked and uncomfortable from the moisture that had settled around him.

Jason however was not thrilled. "Damn it," he breathed as he shivered.

"Your power is growing rapidly, Jason, but you do not understand it. I can help you understand it. Come with me, and you will understand everything."

Wolverine was quick to cut in. "And if he tells you to shove it?"

"I told you guys I can't think about it right now! God!" Jason practically screamed. "Just…just take me back to my room. I'm getting a terrible headache." Truthfully, Jason just wanted to be left alone. This was too much of a freak show for him. "Please, Magneto, take me back." Jason looked exhausted, but stern. "You said you would."

Underneath the helmet, there was a glint of fury in Magneto's eyes. Raising his hand, the steel disc that was a fork rose up at his bidding. Jason smiled; it seemed that Magneto was keeping his word…when suddenly the disc turned into a steel cable and wrapped itself around Jason.

Lady Deathstrike smiled. "Well, that was easy."

"I should say so," Mystique concurred.

"Hey!" Jason cried out in protest. "What are you doing!"

"This could have been easy, Jason…" Magneto said, and then his tone darkened. "…but you have chosen to make things difficult."

At once, Jason blanched. "You promised!"

"For the greater good, young one," Magneto answered calmly.

"I hate to say 'I told you,' kid…" Wolverine cut in.

Jason scowled. He was ensnared by Magneto at the moment, but that didn't kill his fury. "I'll never join you!"

Lady Deathstrike sighed in disgust. "Some people just won't be helped."

Magneto seemed unaffected. "Don't make it more difficult on yourself, Jason. Do not parents strike their children when they seriously misbehave? They do it for the greater good of the child."

"You are so full of it, bub!" Wolverine snarled.

Jason to say the least felt inclined to agree. "You are NOT my father!"

"Admirable, showing loyalty to a human that has no blood relation to you by calling him 'father', even though he, like so many others, may forsake you as soon as you are discovered to be a mutant."

Jason merely stared. He was afraid that his father would turn on him upon discovering his son was a mutant. However, he knew his father, adopted though he was. No matter what Jason had done, or whatever doubts had entered his mind, his father still loved him. Why would that be different now?

"You don't know my father, Magneto. He won't abandon me, and nothing you can say can shake that now! Now let me go!" Jason found that his legs weren't bound, so he stood up. But Magneto was faster. Raising an arm to him again, he reached out with his power to the boy. At once, Jason's right side of his face flared up with intense pain. Jason wanted to scream, but found he could not. His mind seemed to forget how as his brain felt wet and hot from the pain.

"It seems that to restore your skull, they used metal plating and fastens. How convenient." Magneto said.

Lady Deathstrike had a glint of ecstasy in her eye at that revelation. "Lucky."

"Damn you!" Wolverine growled.

Jason couldn't even think to respond. His brain was so overloaded with pain that all he could do was try to breathe. He was trapped…in his own agony.

"Perhaps now you will be more accepting of what I have to offer to you?" Magneto ventured, although his eyes were in a scowl.

Jason still couldn't speak, but his eyes managed to fix on Magneto in such a hateful glare that the mutant got his answer.

Magneto nudged only a finger, and Jason felt his face wash with pain. Here, he cried out, and he was sure his right eye was streaming tears from the pain. His vision faded to white at the edges, and his head felt numb. He wasn't going to last much longer.

"What must it take to sway you, child?" Magneto asked angrily.

Mystique, who had been silent most of the time, watched Jason with a strange expression. She then remembered the dooming foretelling of Jason's demise, and knew she had to do something before Magneto went too far. "He's no good to us dead, Magnus…" she said.

Lady Deathstrike side-eyed her metamorphic colleague, as did Magneto. For a quick second, Magneto considered what he was doing, and then let down his hand. Jason gasped for air as the magnetic force had let go of the right side of his head. His head still hurt like fire, but he could now breathe again.

"Perhaps…another form of persuasion." Magneto thought aloud, and then his eyes narrowed darkly. "Perhaps your father has had the same…implants?"

That statement shot straight to Jason's brain, and at once he knew what Magneto was talking about. "You BASTARD!" Jason screamed, and so did Wolverine in unison.

Magneto threw up a hand, nearly crushing Wolverine with one blast of magnetic force and downing Jason with another. That one shook the metal screws holding his skull together, rattling his brain with pain that Jason nearly passed out there and then. Jason lay gasping on the ground as his brains tried to fight the waves of vertigo that were upsetting Jason's mind.

"I have been hurled every insult ever uttered by the human tongue, child, and none have ever made a mark. Yours makes no difference." Magneto scowled at the injured Jason. "Do not make this any harder upon yourself…or your family Jason."

Jason's eyes shot to Magneto, this time in fear. Magneto clearly had the power to rip every piece of metal in his father's body out without lifting a finger. Jason was the kind of kid that never tolerated bullying on any sort, and was quick to throw off any attempt at bullying on him. However, those threats of harm were always directed at him. Magneto had gone pro with his threats: his family. Jason couldn't allow his father to suffer because of him. "He has nothing to do with this." Jason gasped. "Leave my father alone!"

"Then perhaps we can come to an understanding…" Magneto said.

Jason shook his head. "Please…I don't want him to die!"

"My feelings against Homo sapiens notwithstanding, I fail to see why you would want to let just a human live, when you are far more than that."

"He's my father!" Jason cried.

"So he is…so, I may forget my predilections providing that you aid us. Come with us, and he will be spared. It's that simple."

Jason was torn in two. On one hand, his mind screamed at him to do whatever it takes to keep his family alive. They had nothing to do with this, and he couldn't allow this megalomaniac to destroy everything that mattered to him with a wave of his hand. But, his heart screamed back that choosing the easy route to save his family would ultimately be walking a road to hell. His family would be alive, but they would suffer because of him.

As soon as he thought that, Jason could imagine just looking at his father's face had the teen joined up with Magneto to save him from death. There were many fearful things in this world, but Jason didn't think he had the stones to face such a haunting tearful stare. Tearing up himself, he knew what he needed to do. Did he have the courage? Perhaps not, but he couldn't let Magneto hurt his family.

As he thought, he tried to move his arms. While they were pinned mainly to his sides, his hands were only inches apart. Jason got an idea, and hoped Magneto wouldn't catch on. He only hoped it worked. Inching his hands closer, he felt his fingertips touch. The pain he was too familiar with came to life…but now, he welcomed it. With an image in mind, he now felt he was in control.

His eyes fixated to a glare at Magneto. "Go to hell, you bastard!" With that, the wired around him lit up with green energy, swiftly changing back into what it originally was: a fork.

Clinking to the ground, the fork lay as Jason stood up, now free of his bonds.

Magneto looked incredulous, then furious. "So be it." He raised one hand.

However, he was then interrupted by an angry bellow. Distracted, he looked to see that the form of a tall muscular young man, previously laid unconscious, was standing his full height with a furious hate in his eyes. Piotr Rasputin bellowed to the helmeted mutant, "You will not take him, Magneto!"

Magneto only scowled. "Piotr Rasputin. It was foolish of you to betray me."

"I was fool to believe you, _izverg_!" cried back Piotr.

"And your family will pay for your treachery…" Magneto growled.

"I'm not afraid of you, Magneto! You not hurt my family…or Jason's family. You'll have to kill me first!"

Jason had no idea what kind of relationship Magneto had with this guy, but apparently it wasn't a good one. Nonetheless, this guy was throwing himself in the line of fire for Jason.

Magneto darkened at the impetuous Piotr. "That can be arranged. Lady Deathstrike…"

"With pleasure…" the woman cooed.

At once, Piotr's skin transformed into steel in an instant. Jason's eyes bulged at seeing this. This guy was a mutant too.

"Jason, run!" cried Colossus.

Before Jason could react, Magneto threw a magnetic wave at Jason's face. Jason landed on his back hard with a cry. He tried to breathe, but something didn't feel right in his right side. _"Oh crap…my ribs!"_ Jason thought.

Colossus positioned himself between Jason and his attackers. "I will not let them take you, Jason!"

Jason tried to roll himself onto his left side, but it hurt too much. "We need…help!" Jason gasped; his right lung seemed to refuse to work.

"Ask, and you shall receive!" came another voice from the blackness of the night.

All looked up, just in time to see what appeared to be a bird made of fire swoop down towards them. In a flash of fire, it roared between the two parties, igniting a line of fire separating them. Only Wolverine was on Magneto's side, but Magneto was so distracted that Wolverine felt the pressure evaporate off of him. Taking his chance, he sprung away and over the wall of fire, rejoining Colossus and Jason.

Landing in a crouch, and whipping out his claws, he looked at Jason. "You okay, kid?"

"No…something's wrong."

In a flash of red smoke, a robed figure stepped out and looked over Jason. "Lay still, Jason. I fear you have broken a rib."

Jason nearly jumped at seeing the stranger. "Who are you?"

The robed stranger looked down on him with kind eyes. "I apologize for the sudden appearances, but the stakes demand it. I am Doctor Strange, a friend of Professor Xavier's."

Before anyone else could say anything, all felt a blast of magnetic force, causing the fire to dissipate instantly. Magneto glowered on the four below him. "So, it seems that Charles has enlisted the help of the Sorcerer Supreme."

"Nay, Magnus," Dr. Strange replied. "I came at my own will. I knew that you would try to claim the boy, and I cannot allow that."

"Sorcerer you may be…you are still only a human," Magneto spat. "I…am the Master of Magnetism."

"So you are, yet even the denizens of the Dark Dimension tremble at the forces I have been trusted to command. You would do well to turn aside now so that we may avoid this battle."

At that, Magneto's eyes nearly shimmered in rage. "I do not take counsel from humans!" Magneto waved a hand, sending pieces of roofing and broken generators like shrapnel at the four.

Dr. Strange raised his hands, catching them all and banishing them into oblivion. Not daring to look away from Magneto, he said. "My friends, we must keep him and the two others at bay until help arrives."

"I'm open to ideas, doc…" Wolverine growled.

"I can handle Magneto. Wolverine, can you handle Deathstrike?" Strange inquired.

"Any day!" the savage mutant smiled.

"Piotr, you must get Jason to safety. Mystique will surely pursue you, so do not trust anyone who approaches you."

"I obey." With that, Colossus picked up Jason.

"Ow! Watch the ribs!" Jason protested.

Piotr was instantly regretful. "I'm…terrible sorry."

"Quickly now!" Dr. Strange cried out.

"Do not think I am alone here, Doctor!" With that, Magneto raised a hand. All looked up to see two silver orbs rush towards them at breakneck speeds. Slamming onto the rooftops, they opened to reveal they were hollow…and contained something…

…or rather…someone.

From one came a burst of flame, shaping into a firebird before evaporating on command. Then, out came a man with such a radiant color of hair that it seemed to be made of fire himself. Dressed in an orange pyro-retardant suit and goggle-like glasses, he smiled with a maniacal grin.

Out of the other stepped a lean dark-clothed man, toting in one hand a multifunctional staff and a deck of cards in another. His eyes were darker then the night, but seemed to have a red shimmer to them.

These two joined by Magneto's side only briefly, for Magneto cried out. "Pyro, Gambit! Dispose of these two. Deathstrike, Mystique, subdue Jason and bring him to me!"

Dr. Strange turned to Piotr. "Go, now!"

At once, Piotr raced off carrying Jason, while Deathstrike and Mystique gave chase. Wolverine snarled at dove at the one called Gambit, while Pyro blasted a wave of fire at the Doctor.

Magneto hovered a safe distance away to a vantage point so he could see either event as it unfolded. One way or another, Jason would belong to the Brotherhood, and from there…mutant supremacy.

Colossus carried Jason over the hospital roof, wincing as his metal footsteps echoed through the night. He knew that Mystique and Deathstrike would be on his trail and fast. There was no shaking either of them, but he knew he couldn't fight them both alone…not with his charge over Jason.

Jason spoke up finally. "Who are you anyway?"

Piotr made a strange look at such a casual question. Instantly, he felt shy. "I…I am Piotr Rasputin."

Jason made a strange look himself as he tried to pronounce the name. "Peter?"

Piotr had to smile here. That's what everyone called him since it was somewhat difficult to pronounce his real name without the Russian dialect. He felt like his blushing could be visible through his steel exterior at the moment. "You can call me Peter."

"Ok…Peter." Jason said, but then sobered up. "There should be a doorway to a maintenance stairwell somewhere on here. If you can find one, I should be able to get in and climb down the stairs."

"Alone? But…you're hurt!"

"I know." Jason couldn't agree more. His right side was in serious pain, and his right lung felt constricted. "But if I can get in, you can guard the door from those…" Jason was unsure what to call their pursuers, so he corrected himself. "…them. Once inside, I'll try to get security to help you out or get me out of here."

Piotr didn't respond right away. "I try."

However, before they got the chance, a figure leaped out from the side. Piotr dashed away, avoiding a clawed swipe from Deathstrike. Taking off again, he raced into a group of large rooftop generators. This place was incredibly dark, and they knew it. Hopefully, it might throw off the pursuit. Colossus ducked behind one generator to get his breath.

"Peter," Jason whispered. "Can you revert back to your normal flesh? Your metal is reflecting too much light."

Piotr blanched. "Oh…sorry." At once, his flesh turned back into its normal form, and causing him to shrink as well. However, he was still massive next to Jason. "Come, we must find door."

"I don't think so!" cooed a deadly voice.

Both jumped to see the outline of Lady Deathstrike. Jason thought he was imagining things, but were her silver eyes shimmering in the dark?

"Leave Jason alone!" Piotr cried out, instantly back in his metal form. Giving the nearby generator a savage punch, it sprayed sparks at the woman.

Recoiling with a scream, Deathstrike lashed out with a fly of her claws, but her targets were already gone. Cursing, he gave chase again.

"Maybe you'd better keep your metal on from now on," Jason said, unnerved, and then he coughed.

Something in Piotr's mind pinged, telling him that Jason's coughing was not any normal cough. "Jason, what's wrong?"

"I'm…just having a hard time…getting some air." Jason gasped. "The right side of my chest feels tight too."

Colossus felt a new sense of urgency. "I must find you doctor."

"We need…to get out of here…first." Jason had to breathe deep between words.

"Don't talk." Colossus said, his voice edged with worry. "I must find the door."

Then, out of nowhere, the shape of an enormous lion jumped out, tackling Colossus from the shadows behind him. Colossus fell forward, but had the sense to spin to his side. Letting go, He and Jason tumbled on the rooftop. Piotr was unhurt, thanks to his metal flesh, but he scampered to his feet. Jason lay on his side, gasping in pain and grasping his right side.

Jason tried his best to stay on his left side, trying to keep his injured side from underneath him. While the tumble didn't directly hurt him, it did jolt him, shaking up things already broken. As he tried to protect his left side, his fingers felt some sticky wetness seeping from underneath the gauze. Jason barely had the energy to react to this new revelation: the stitches had torn and now he was bleeding. He needed help fast.

Colossus bounded to his feet and strode for Jason, but something leaped between him and the boy: the lion that had attacked before. Colossus halted in his tracks, then shouted. "I don't want to hurt you, Mystique, but Jason needs help. Get out of my way!"

Jason looked at the lion, which transformed into the blue-skinned woman he had seen before earlier. She glanced at Jason, then back at Piotr. "You never were able to understand what's at stake, Piotr…and you never will."

"Understand what?" Jason asked. "And who are you anyway. I know you're with Magneto, but who are _you_?"

Mystique looked down at Jason again, but this time with a mischievous smile. "I can be anybody you like." With that, she changed into another form…one that nearly made Jason's heart stop with dread: his own father, bearing a twisted look on his face that didn't seem to belong to him. "Anyone."

Jason was practically frozen at seeing his father's image look down upon him in such a twisted way; he couldn't think. Colossus, on the other hand, found his tongue. "You monster!"

Mystique-Patrick looked at Piotr with scorn. "Tell me, Rasputin…who really _is_ the monster here?"

At that, Piotr froze. Mystique had hit him right where it hurt: his self-loathing for working for Magneto to hurt people. Even since he left Magneto, he still felt like a monster, and he avoided the company of the other X-Men because he couldn't forgive himself. He lowered his head in shame.

Jason noticed right away. Even through his pain, he looked at Mystique and Colossus…and realized it at once. "You…you worked together."

Piotr didn't speak, but his silence spoke volumes. Mystique wasn't nearly so reserved as she returned to her usual form. "In a manner of speaking…" Mystique looked back at the shrinking Colossus scornfully once again. "…but he betrayed us."

Jason's brow sank over his eyes in anger, but before he could respond, another voice purred into the night, and Jason's blood instantly chilled. "Indeed…but it is to be expected." Jason watched to see Lady Deathstrike step out from hiding. "Piotr has always been a foolish boy…"

Piotr tried to defend himself from his verbal onslaught, but he still hadn't recovered from Mystique's own attack. As he shrunk away, his powers diminished and he reverted to his normal state. His grief and shame clouded his thoughts so that he couldn't think straight.

"See? He can't even defend himself." Lady Deathstrike's eyes shimmered in scorn as she spat, "Pathetic." Taking a step forward, she continued. "Maybe…I should just put him out of his misery."

"Over…my…dead…BODY!"

Lady Deathstrike and Mystique spun at that voice, and were just in time to see Jason slap a hand against the roof. The ground beneath them suddenly shot upwards with spikes as sharp as thorns, each as big as a mastiff. Lady Deathstrike and Mystique evaded each one as it rose from beneath them. Eventually, the spikes stopped. The two mutant women, along with a dumbfounded Piotr looked to see Jason, still lying on his side, but with a twisted look of fury on his face that it was hard to believe here was the same boy that was afraid of them earlier.

Finally, he smiled. "Looks like I'm getting the hand of this…"

All the sudden, the spikes were hewn into pieces by something so fast that Jason didn't even see it. Coughing in the smoke, he looked up to see Lady Deathstrike looming over him, her eyes seemingly glinting in a manic fury. "So…boy…you wanted to know what I can do…didn't you?"

Jason couldn't answer. He seemed paralyzed at just looking into her metallic eyes.

"Well…now you'll find out." At that, she extended her claws one-foot long with a high-pitch _shing_, her claws shimmering in whatever light caught them.

Jason felt his heart skip a beat, as his instincts screamed at him to move, but he couldn't!

Bringing her right arm in front of her, she readied herself for a backhanded strike on the boy, extending her claws out even further. With a smile, she said. "Such a shame, really…"

Mystique suddenly spoke out authoritatively. "Deathstrike, we are not to harm the boy."

Deathstrike stood defiantly. "Things change, Raven."

Mystique bristled. "Do not harm the boy!"

With that, Deathstrike raised her arm over and pointed her claws at Mystique. "Magneto gave up on him. He's no use to us now…so why should it matter."

By now, Colossus had snapped out of his stupor. "Stay away from him, you creature!"

Curling her fingers more, Deathstrike kept one claw pointed at each Mystique and Colossus. "One step closer, and there's no saving the fool, foolish boy…but it seems there's nothing that can be done anyway. If you want to die first, though…"

Mystique was incredulous. "Have you lost your mind, Oyama? We need Jason to ensure the safety of mutants."

"Oh?" Deathstrike chimed. "And you think I really care? Raven, it's like you don't know me at all. I didn't join Magneto because of that…" Lady Deathstrike smiled. "I joined because I was bored."

Mystique blanched, as did Colossus and Jason.

"See, I really don't care about your cause…or anyone's cause. I joined only because I knew there would be some action. After making a deal with Magneto to let me go for my own business when I wasn't needed, I decided to play nice just to see what fun I could get into. But now, I'm bored again, and you and your precious mutant cause are just in my way.

"But, I seem to face a dilemma: should I slice the boy up first? The metal-skinned boy?" Then her voice dropped to a new low. "Or you, Raven?"

Mystique looked furious. Colossus was petrified. Jason couldn't believe what he was seeing and hearing.

"Maybe, I should let you choose…Piotr," Deathstrike said.

Piotr looked up in shock again.

"So…who first? Raven? Jason? Or yourself? Quickly now, it's rude to keep a girl waiting."

"I agree!" shouted a voice above.

Lady Deathstrike looked up just in time to see a bolt of lightning come racing down, striking her right in the head. Screaming in pain, the bolt then sent her out of sight into a generator.

Jason and Piotr looked up to see a white-haired woman, garbed in a black uniform with a long flowing cape, and white gloves and boots descend down to them. Upon touching the ground, Jason saw that her eyes were shining a fierce white.

"Storm!" Piotr said.

"I'm sorry for taking too long, but it seems I arrived just in time."

Jason had shielded himself reflexively from the lightning strike, and looked up to hear the otherwise gentle voice. "That lightning bolt…was you?"

Storm looked down at Jason. "You must be Jason. Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

Piotr didn't give Jason the opportunity. "His breathing…it's all wrong. I must get him to a doctor."

"Then you should." Storm said. "Where is Wolverine?"

"Fighting Magneto alongside Dr. Strange. Pyro and Gambit are here too."

"Then I must help them!"

Then, out of nowhere, a shriek of rage split the sky. All jumped to see Lady Deathstrike, still smoking from the lightning strike was charging at Storm with claws extended. As fast as lightning, Storm threw her arms forward, summoning a fantastic lightning surge to strike the charging menace. Lady Deathstrike screamed as the bolts laced around her as she tried to free herself from their grasp.

"Deathstrike!" Storm cried out with authority that matched a thunderstorm. "You shall not come anywhere closer to Jason Downs ever again as long as he lives…and if you do, you shall suffer the full extent of the wrath of the heavens!"

With that, with one cry, Storm surged lightning so powerful that it blew Lady Deathstrike away and off the roof. Now alone, Storm panted from the ferocity of her attack; it had drained her some.

Jason and Piotr were silent at seeing their enemy vanquished so easily. However, Piotr recovered the first and looked around, only to find something amiss. "She's gone."

The others looked and saw that Mystique had indeed disappeared as well. "Where'd she go?" Jason asked.

Storm answered. "Mystique is very clever with her hiding. I don't think she'll bother us anymore, but I'm sure she's very close."

Jason had to swallow before speaking next. "So…who are you?" He gasped.

Storm turned to address Jason, when suddenly an eruption of fire blasted up from the other side of the hospital. All looked to see the dancing fire as it burned.

"Pyro," Colossus breathed.

"Then I must help Wolverine and Stephen." Storm looked back at Jason. "I'll have to fill you in later, but know that the Professor sent me to help you."

"The Professor?" Jason breathed.

"Jason…don't talk…" Colossus said concerned. "I take you to doctor now."

"And go quickly," Storm added. "Jason needs to be off the roof before I douse the flames. Good luck, Jason!" she called back as she flew away.

"'Douse the flames?'" Jason repeated, coughing. "With what?"

* * *

><p>Dr. Strange fended off Pyro's blasts with his magic, but the heat proved oppressive. The heat even worked its way through his mystical shield. All the while, Pyro was having the time off his life, laughing all the way like a maniac.<p>

"Nothing like good ol' shrimp on the barby!" Pyro would scream as he shot out more flames.

Dr. Strange then got an idea. Waving his hands mystically, he caught the flames with his magic, containing it into an orb of flame. Pyro promptly stopped laughing.

Dr. Strange's face, looking very different in the light of the fiery orb, smiled. "Oh, I've always preferred my good mother's beef pie." Without another word, Strange threw the orb at Pyro, which exploded into flame so powerful that it knocked Pyro off his feet, while not really hurting him.

Meanwhile, Gambit proved to be a real annoyance to Wolverine. Gambit fended off Wolverine with a blow from his staff at a perry, then threw a card burning with some energy. Wolverine jumped aside as the card exploded like a stick of dynamite.

Gambit only smiled. "Seems that my _chere_ Logan has not much luck."

Wolverine jumped back in with a claw swipe and a snarl. "Keep your luck, Swamp Rat!"

Ever since Colossus took Jason and ran, Dr. Strange and Wolverine were exhausting themselves trying to keep any support for Deathstrike and Mystique away, and by now, things weren't looking too hot.

Magneto, from his vantage point, observed everything, when he was distracted by a lightning bolt striking 'haphazardly' across the roof. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

Storm. Reinforcements have arrived.

Quickly, he hovered down to the battle. "Pyro, Gambit. We must depart now. We're done."

Wolverine snarled. "I ain't finished yet!"

Magneto smiled. "Yes, you are."

Wolverine then found himself hurled away like a rag doll off the roof. He braced himself for a bad landing, when red mist formed around him and yanked him away. In a rather dizzying moment, he found himself back on the roof as Dr. Strange used his teleportation spell to bring him back.

"Pyro, blast the roof!" Magneto commanded.

"Right, mate!" Pyro shot out with both jets massive flames in one solid blast. Wolverine and Dr. Strange braced themselves as the heat nearly scorched him. Dr. Strange threw up a mystical shimmering shield to keep the flames away. When Wolverine recovered, he saw some very familiar silvery orbs depart and fly away at breakneck speeds.

"Damn coward…" Wolverine breathed.

"Perhaps," Dr. Strange said. "But I am relieved that he did depart."

"Wolverine! Doctor!" called out a voice.

Both looked up to see Storm come down towards them.

"Storm!" Wolverine was all business. "Did Colossus get Jason out of here?"

"He is doing it now. He was cornered by Deathstrike and Mystique, but I was able to get them out of it. They shouldn't be bothering them anymore."

Dr. Strange smiled. "Delightful, my friends. I hope they shall stay away from the lad now, but now we have more pressing concerns." Dr. Strange motioned to the burning roof.

"Yes," Storm said. Without another word, she rose up into the air and immediately raised her arms up. The clouds formed around her and lightning forked through the sky, just moments before torrential rains poured down to douse the flames.

Then…out of nowhere…a piercing scream of agonizing fear split the sky, startling all of them. All turned to see green lightning-like energy race upwards like an explosion, and just then, a blast of that same energy knocked them all off their feet. Storm herself was knocked out of the sky, and landed hard beside Wolverine.

Dr. Strange looked to this new sight, and his heart suddenly froze. "It's Jason!"

* * *

><p><em>Moments before…<em>

Colossus and Jason had soon located a door leading to a maintenance stairwell. "Thank god…" Jason breathed. "I really need to sleep now."

Colossus was about to agree when lightning erupted through the sky again. Turning, he saw the clouds gathering above and it began to rain…hard. "It's Storm! She's brought a storm to douse the fire!" Jason said nothing. Every flash of lightning and the sound of the wind picking up was all Piotr heard. Piotr looked at Jason, who had a strange look on his face. "Jason? What is wrong?"

Jason still said nothing…but his eyes said everything as they opened wide. His breathing became shallow, and his lean muscles bulged. He seemed to grow tenser as each lightning flash split the sky.

"Jason?" Piotr asked again, not understanding.

"No…" Jason breathed.

"No?" Piotr asked, confused.

"No!" Jason shouted.

Now Piotr was getting scared. "Jason…what's wrong?"

"NO!" Jason screamed.

Piotr put Jason down hastily and tried to talk to Jason. "Jason, speak to me!"

"GET OUT OF MY HEEEEEEEEEAD!" Jason screamed, and his flesh erupted with green alchemic energy. Then, his body blasted away the energy with the force of a bomb.

Piotr was thrown away from Jason, his flesh instantly incased in metal, rolling away and topping over the edge. Piotr only had the sense to grasp to the roofing as he went over. Now hanging over the edge of the roof, he could still see the chaos reflected from the skies as he tried to heave himself back on, but 500 lbs. was a lot of weight to lift to fight gravity. He looked down and instantly wished he didn't: he was ten stories up from the ground, and even if he fell while in metal-form, the impact would still likely cause some real damage inside of him.

Suddenly scared, all he could do was hold on, and hope someone was coming to help…both him and Jason.

Meanwhile, Jason saw only one thing: the night that would haunt him for the rest of his life, and now it dominated his mind. He was trapped, and his fear was now out of control. He couldn't even scream for help. He was trapped in a living nightmare.

* * *

><p>Jean was thinking.<p>

Along with her on the X-Jet were Scott, Kurt, Kitty and Rogue, as well as Hank who was flying them at near Mach 3 towards Oklahoma City. While none of them really appreciated the late-night call on a school night, the Professor had already warned them that they needed to be ready any time of the day or night in case of an emergency.

And this certainly was an emergency. Jason was in trouble, and Wolverine and Colossus needed support to protect Jason. Most of the crew was trying to get some sleep on the way, and thus the way was quiet. However, Jean was awake much to her annoyance, and mainly, it was only to think.

When she had left Jason last time, she had just barely coaxed Jason out of what might have been suicidal tendencies. How was Jason feeling right now…or more accurately, how he was doing since then barring this emergency? Having met with him, Jean eagerly wanted to have him come to the Institute, because…probably…she saw a little bit of herself in him. Her own powers awoke from tragedy, but unlike Jason, she somehow locked away her emotion for the most part to deal with it, while Jason's emotions swung back and forth quickly, to say nothing of whatever fear he was now scarred with.

Suddenly, Beast announced that they were nearing Oklahoma City and the hospital, waking up the others. Rather noisily, they shook themselves away.

"We're like there already?" Kitty groaned. "I wish school went that fast."

"Amen to that," Rogue groaned.

Kurt yawned. "_Ja_, let's just get this over with then go back to bed."

Hank had to chuckle at that, yet said, "Come, come! We can't be sleeping now! Wolverine and Colossus need our help to fend of the Brotherhood, and I don't think you'd want to be caught sleeping in front of them."

Kurt answered, "The Brotherhood, I can handle. Wolverine on the other hand…"

Suddenly, Scott explained. "What the heck is that!"

Everyone was awake at once at that exclamation. All looked out to see some kind of green bizarre lightning storm erupting from the hospital rooftop. Hank cried out. "Hang on!" Hank swerved the Blackbird aside, to avoid getting too close to the hospital. Everyone grunted and gasped at the sudden change of direction, but shook it off again to keep their eyes on it.

"_Was ist das!_" Kurt exclaimed. "And why does it not make me feel good?"

Jean's eyes flashed in recognition. "It's Jason!"

That got everyone's attention. Rogue spoke first. "Jason is in the middle of…that?"

"I'm sure of it!" Jean replied. "We need to get down there!"

"I agree." Hank placed a headset on and tried the radio. "Logan! Logan, come in!"

* * *

><p>Wolverine had bounded to his feet and had taken off to a run towards where Piotr and Jason last were, marked by the obvious show. He didn't know what went wrong this time, but he'd be damned if he was just going to sit by and let it play out. As he rounded a bend, he saw it.<p>

In the middle of the eruptive energy, Jason's silhouette was crouched on his knees, holding his head as if trying to keep some evil out of his head. All around him, things were constantly changing into something else, only to change again. A quick search revealed that Piotr was nowhere to be found.

At once, Wolverine sniffed the air hoping to catch the Russian's scent, but all that energy coming from Jason was creating something akin to a great wind, and it was difficult to smell anything.

Then, he picked it up. Rushing in its direction, he soon saw that it led over the side of the roof. Picking up the pace, he found that Piotr was hanging on for his dear life from the side of the roof. Wolverine grasped his hand and called down to him. "You all right, Tin Man?"

"I…I think so…" Piotr called back up. The fact of the matter was that he was confused as to what just happened. "Where's Jason?"

Wolverine glanced at Jason. "He's nearby…but I don't' dare get close to him."

"We need to help him! He's gone mad!"

"You don't have to tell me twice, bub," Wolverine said. "But first things first: up you go!" Wolverine grunted with exertion as he heaved Colossus up back on the rooftop, helped out ironically by Piotr himself by his climbing back up. "Come on! Take shelter!"

Moments later, Piotr and Logan hid behind what remained of a generator that Deathstrike had sliced up earlier.

Piotr asked the inevitable. "What are we going to do?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, bub. I don't even know how to get close to him."

Wolverine's radio crackled to life. "Logan, it's Storm. What's going on?"

"Tin Man tells me that Jason's gone into a full blown panic. We can't get near him."

"We're coming! Hold tight!"

"You don't have to tell me twice." Just then, a large spike the size of a mastiff shot out by them, crashing along the roof, still sparkling with that same alchemic energy.

Right afterwards, Dr. Strange and Storm appeared out of a cloud of red mist right beside them. Dr. Strange looked out to see Jason, and frowned. "I was afraid of this."

"What?" Piotr asked.

Dr. Strange didn't answer Piotr directly, but addressed Storm. "Ororo, I fear that when you summoned the storm, it set Jason off to go into his panic."

Storm's eyes widened, and then looked serious. "But how? I've never seen even children panic in a thunderstorm."

"That would be because this isn't just ordinary fear…" Dr. Strange stated. "Jason has been mentally scared by his ordeal a few days ago. Now he automatically associates all storms or even the very talk of them with that night. That night is his own personal hell."

Storm suddenly looked down at that revelation. "I…I didn't realize…"

"Don't blame yourself, Ororo. None of us knew really…"

"What can we do?" Piotr asked.

"We need to get to him and calm him down somehow. His mind is in a complete pandemonium; I couldn't even hope to console him through telepathy. I doubt even Charles would be able to."

"But we need to get close to him, and none of us can take that kind of punishment!" Logan said.

Piotr then looked thoughtful. "I could."

All looked at him. "Piotr, there's no telling what his out of control alchemic powers will do to you, even in metal form," Dr. Strange said.

"I know…but I…I think if I can reach him…he'll listen to me."

Logan's eyes narrowed. "And just how are you going to do that?"

"I…I don't know…" Piotr said ashamedly, but then firmed up. "…but I must try."

"You can't go alone, kid!" Logan said. "He already knocked you off the roof; he'll do it again."

Just then, Logan's radio crackled to life again. "Logan! Logan, come in!"

Logan answered. "That you, Hank? Where are you?"

"There they are!" Storm said, pointing out the X-Jet hovering at a standstill a safe distance away.

"We're on the roof! Jason's in a blind panic and his power has gone berserk! We need backup, now!"

"Got it!"

With that the radio died, and a few minutes later, all heard a bamf nearby, and cries of surprise. Logan looked to see that the rest of the X-Men were several feet away, exposed. "Get to cover, everyone!"

The rest of the X-Men ran for Logan's position, all the while dodging pieces of flying debris created by Jason's alchemy. Finally, they all gathered up. Jean spoke first, "What happened?"

"Long story," Logan said. "But we need to take down Jason now!"

"Don't hurt him!" Piotr said. "He's already hurt and scared!"

"Don't worry, Piotr," Dr. Strange said. "All we need to do is pacify him until he calms down."

"Whatever we're going to do, let's do it before Jason tears the hospital apart!" Logan said.

Rogue spoke up. "If I can get close enough, I think I can drain him…"

All looked at Rogue. Dr. Strange spoke first. "Young one, if you absorb Jason's memories right now, it could also hurt your own psyche."

"I know," Rogue said. "But I gotta try…"

"We have a plan, then!" Scott said. "The rest of us can distract Jason long enough for Rogue to get close enough from behind."

Piotr spoke up. "I can take whatever Jason throws at me. I'll go first."

Jean spoke next. "I can try to keep the bigger things away, but I can't guarantee catching everything."

Kitty then spoke. "I'll hang close to Piotr then. Any big pieces you miss, I'll phase him through!"

"Then let's go!" Logan said.

All, besides Rogue who waited for her chance to sneak, leaped out of their hiding place. Despite Jason not moving, he somehow sensed he was being "attacked." Debris appeared from the ground, leaving large gaps in the roof and hurled themselves at the X-Men like a tornado had thrown them. Scott blasted the bigger pieces away with his optic blasts, while Jean and Dr. Strange caught many other pieces with telekinesis.

Colossus and Kitty slowly ventured towards the eye of the alchemic storm, all the while shielding their eyes from the light. Colossus called out, "Jason!"

In response, a slab of concrete came from the roof and hurled itself at Colossus. Bracing himself, the concrete smashed into him shattering, but he held his ground. Thankfully, Shadowcat had remained behind him and thus avoided the danger.

"Watch it, Tin Man!" called out Logan.

Colossus ignored him. "Jason, it's me!"

This time, a steel beam morphed up and flung towards him. Thinking quickly, Shadowcat touched Colossus' back and concentrated. The beam shot through them without leaving a mark, and then it was caught by Jean and Dr. Strange and tossed aside.

Colossus dared to step closer. "Jason, please stop!"

Finally, Jason screamed. "MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOOOOOOOOP!"

Colossus barely ducked a piece of the machinery from the generator as it soared over his head. Stepping closer, he became aware that each step took more and more of his strength; he was fighting some kind of magnetic repelling field, but not nearly as strong as Magneto's.

Colossus came closer, as Shadowcat peeked around to look at Jason. "Come on, Jason…snap out of it! We're friends!"

Jason only screamed in complete fear and pain. Kitty was just barely quick enough to phase Piotr and herself through a summoned spike.

Stepping out and closer some more, Piotr was now only a few feet away. "Jason…please…listen to my voice!"

Jason didn't scream…and neither did anything come to attack them.

"You're reaching him!" Kitty cried out.

"Keep going!" Cyclops called out.

Colossus took a few more cautious steps, and said quietly. "Jason…I…I…" Colossus finally found himself at a loss for words. He wasn't sure what to say.

One more step. Jason was now in reach. Crouching down onto his hands and knees, he looked at Jason, and could see the tears streaming down his face. Piotr's mouth froze, and for a quick second didn't know what to do. Then, he felt one impulse and went for it.

Catching Jason by the shoulders, Piotr lifted him up slightly, and held the poor by against himself in an embrace. "It's okay…" Piotr finally whispered. "It's okay…"

At that touch, Jason's power faltered and his eyes opened. "Dad?" Jason whispered.

Suddenly, Jason grunted in pain, and then collapsed in a heap in Piotr's arms with a moan. Piotr looked up to see Rogue standing nearby, one of her gloves off and just removing her hand from one of Jason's bear shoulders. At the same time, the alchemic energy dissolved into thin air and peace reigned in the night.

The rest of the X-Men soon began to make their way towards Piotr, still holding the still form of Jason.

Ororo said it for everyone. "Poor child."

"Indeed," Dr. Strange concurred. "The boy by all rights should never had gone through such an ordeal, not even once, but alas the Fates are a treacherous bunch."

Piotr looked up, and found he too having tears in his own eyes as he reverted back to his normal form. "I…I want to take Jason back."

There was silence for a small time. Finally, Dr. Strange spoke up. "Then let us go. I must see if I can help the boy. Come."

With that, Dr. Strange approached Piotr and Jason, and cast a teleportation spell to take them away.

Now alone, the rest of the X-Men looked around the war-torn roof. Scott said it best. "I guess we now know what Jason is capable of."

"Somehow," Logan said. "I don't think we've come close to seeing it."

"Do you think Jason will be all right?" Kurt asked. "He looked like he took quite a beating."

"The doc will take care of him, elf…" Logan said.

Jean then tried to clarify. "I think he meant will Jason be all right in his mind as well."

To that, Logan remained silent. Jean and Kurt looked at each other, and the rest of the X-Men could only resign to the fact that Logan wouldn't say another word…for there was nothing else to say.

All heard a groan from Rogue, and saw her sit down holding her head. Kitty was the quickest to react. "Rogue, are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine…" Rogue said. "It's just like Dr. Strange said; I got a big dump of his memories when I drained Jason…" Rogue then looked at the rest of the crew, whose eyes widened when they saw the haunted look at her face.

As tears poured down her face, Rogue said. "He was also right about another thing: Jason should never have seen that. It…is hell."


	8. Chapter 7: Question

**CHAPTER 7: Question**

* * *

><p><em>St. Anthony's Hospital, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma; April 21, 2011 – 7:16 AM<em>

Piotr Rasputin had not moved from Jason's side since the poor boy returned to that bed. While they did take Jason right back to safety, Dr. Strange surmised that Jason's more recent injuries were more severe than what it seemed. Under the guise of a doctor, Dr. Strange called for nurses to support him as they put Jason on a crash cart and wheeled him away. Piotr could only watch in apprehensive silence.

Now, it was morning, and Piotr was perched beside Jason. Jason how had two re-fractured ribs, a partially collapsed lung as one long sliced part of and stress fractures in the skull from when Magneto overdid it slightly with his magnetism, not to mention what kind of brain or emotional damage could have been dealt when Jason lost it. As a result, Jason was now lying flat on his back, wrapped up in fresh bandages and on a ventilator. What doctors couldn't determine was why Jason was back in a coma, although Piotr did know why.

Piotr hoped that Rogue's powers didn't harm Jason more than intended. Rogue's power was exceedingly difficult to control, and Rogue still couldn't control it properly. All she could do was just avoid accidental draining by keeping her skin covered, and not let anyone get too close, much to her contrition. She only needed a couple of seconds to send someone into a deep coma. Typically, the victim would recovered before twenty-four hours had elapsed, but Jason was a special case. Rogue had never drained anyone whose brain was already injured.

It had been nearly five hours since that incident on the rooftop of the hospital. While the damage to the rooftop was restored—thanks to Dr. Strange—the real damage remained here. No amount of structural destruction could amount to the amount of damage Jason had taken, physically and mentally.

Yet, despite the pain and suffering, Jason remained defiant of Magneto, even though Magneto had threatened both him and his family with death. Piotr had been fighting off Mystique's chloroform at the time, but he heard it all. He waited and listened, and when Jason defied Magneto for the last time, Piotr knew his time to act was then.

As he sat there, waiting for any sign of life from Jason, he began to think about that moment. Jason, injured and broken as he was, still defied the Master of Magnetism, despite great personal risk. Piotr himself had faced the same offer, even down to the threats. Only he gave in…Jason did not.

Piotr at once felt ashamed. Here he was, one of the strongest men in the X-Men with flesh harder than galvanized steel, outdone by an injured boy with one simple stance: commitment. Piotr had joined Magneto only to protect his family as well as save someone he dearly loved. He couldn't let anything happen to his family…so he sold his soul to the devil to protect them. His reward? Eternal regret and sorrow.

Jason, however, had refused to take the deal, and was nearly killed for it. However, would Jason have regretted it? Piotr may never know the answer to that question, although he wished he would. Mainly so he might have an answer to the question he posed himself: what would have happened if he had turned down Magneto himself? Would he have lived? Would his family been harmed at all? There was no way of knowing, he thought. And if so, what good was it? He couldn't change the past, yet it dogged him to this day.

Looking at Jason again, Piotr couldn't help but admire him. Jason did what he could not…or so he thought. Perhaps…Jason was more of a man than he himself was. That courage both encouraged Piotr and shamed him, with that same shame that haunted him since he joined the X-Men. Piotr wanted to talk to Jason more, asking him how that felt to have that courage…

…he hoped Jason would wake up soon.

Suddenly, he heard stirring from the adjacent bed. Piotr looked up startled to see the father began to stir. Piotr instantly paled; to this man, Piotr was an invader in the room. He had no idea just how Jason's father would react to his alien presence. Piotr braced himself for what he thought was the inevitable verbal onslaught.

As Piotr held his breath, he watched Jason's father, Patrick, whom had been released from his neck brace and backboard earlier that week. Patrick seemed to blink wearily, as if he was coming out of an unusually deep sleep. Moaning, as if the harsh overhead light was causing him pain, he rubbed his eyes as he waited for his eyes to readjust. Piotr scarcely breathed as Patrick finally looked around the room…then at him.

Patrick's eyes snapped open. "Who are you?"

Piotr stood up instantly, as if a drill sergeant barked at him to do so. "I…I beg pardon, sir."

Patrick blinked once at how tall Piotr was, but looked then at Jason, and saw the damage. Looking back at Piotr, he asked sternly. "What happened to my son?"

Even though he knew that he towered above Patrick, Piotr felt small enough to crawl into a mouse hole under Patrick's stern look. "I…I can explain."

"Did you do anything to hurt my son…?" Patrick asked.

"No!" Piotr said quickly. "I…I tell you everything…but…is long story."

Patrick studied Piotr. Despite his size and build, this stammering young man seemed to have a caring nature about him, as if he never wanted to hurt anyone, or ever meant to. One look into the young man's eyes told Patrick that whatever he had to say was the truth…and not only that, this young man wanted to tell him everything.

"Who are you?" Patrick asked, this time more gently.

Piotr sighed with relief before answering. "I…I'm sorry. I am Piotr Resputin. I come here with Professor…"

"Professor?"

"_Da_…Professor Xavier."

"Who's he?"

Piotr opened his mouth to answer, but realized that probably wasn't the best place to start. He needed a better place to begin talking about Jason, his gift and what happened earlier that morning. "Is long story…but he wants to help Jason."

Piotr was about to ask another question, and then he thought asking another question would only add to the confusion. Perhaps it was better to hear Piotr out instead. "Perhaps you should start at the beginning then."

Piotr only nodded before sitting down again.

"How about you start on how you…and this Professor…know my son?"

* * *

><p>Professor Xavier sat in his wheelchair, a concern look strongly etched into his aging face, while he waited for the inevitable arrival of Jason's mother from Red Rock in the hospital lobby. The Professor had arrived earlier, along with Ororo, to meet the mother. Needless to say, the mother was going to have a lot of questions…and a lot to say.<p>

The last few hours had been eventful. After sending most of the X-Men along with Wolverine back to the Mansion, he discussed Jason's condition with Dr. Strange. The conflict on the rooftop had taxed Jason mentally, and had critically injured him, and Dr. Strange had to act fast to make him stable for the other doctors to handle. Thankfully, Dr. Strange had cast a spell so that his presence was accepted as a being another doctor at the hospital. While Jason's injuries weren't lethal, they were dangerous. However, Jason's mental stasis remained in question because of the coma Rogue had put Jason into.

Colossus reported that apparently Lady Deathstrike had gone rogue, and threatened to kill Jason. This worried the Professor. Logan's recanting on her was not comforting. Despite the fact Storm was the one that blasted Deathstrike off the roof, Lady Deathstrike may intensify her hunt for Jason purely to finish the job. Jason needed protection more than ever now…providing he would recover. Even though he knew precisely where Jason was, his comatose mind was elusive and he could not trace it, so he wouldn't know if Jason was all right until he came out of it.

"Professor…" Ororo started.

The Professor looked up to his friend and colleague. "What is it?"

"It's…it's about last night."

The Professor didn't need telepathy to know where this was going. "Ororo, it was not your fault. There was no way you could have known how Jason would react to your powers."

"I know, Professor, it was an accident…" Ororo's chocolate eyes looked at Charles. "…but nonetheless, I am responsible for what happened."

"Ororo…"

Storm wasn't done. "Professor, while the fault isn't mine, Jason's mind may have been shattered by my actions. If any further harm has befallen Jason as a result of his reactions to my storms, then I should bear the responsibility for it. If Jason recovers, I ask that I can train him in some lessons on his own."

The Professor was rather surprised at Ororo's mother-like attitude towards Jason. "That is a noble gesture, Ororo, but I fear that after today, Jason may find himself fearful of you."

Ororo had to concede that possibility. She had heard stories of returning soldiers that withdraw themselves from crowds, mainly it reminds them of the trench fighting where so many comrades may have died. Such returning veterans even struggled returning to normal life because of how such trauma had permanently affected their respective psyches. Jason had been feared to have PTSD, and if last night was any indication, their fears were realized. Jason could even link the storms to her, and shrink away from her like she was a ghost. All this because Jason was in the wrong place at the wrong time on that fateful night with the tornado.

Ororo finally managed to speak. "Yes…Jason may become very afraid of me after last night. He may want to stay as far away from me as he can…but, as much as I can summon storms, I can calm them. Perhaps, I may need to be the one to cast out the storms for Jason."

The Professor smiled at this. "You just might, Storm. You just might."

As soon as this conversation had ended, the Professor espied Susan Downs come rushing in from outside, obviously distraught. The Professor watched as she sought out the receptionist. After a few panicked seconds, she turned away and waited. The Professor watched carefully. Apparently, she was told to wait a moment before going up to see Jason. The Professor waited; he could feel the thousands of thoughts going through Susan's head at this moment, but they all were the same really: fear, panic, and anxiety for Jason's safety, and deservedly so.

After a few agonizing minutes, Dr. Sontagg finally entered the lobby and sought out Susan. The Professor noted that following Dr. Sontagg was what appeared to be a police officer or security guard. The Professor frowned; so they suspected foul play. It was a good assumption, and the Professor knew that they guessed right in a sense. However, he doubted that security has hazarded a guess that the attackers were anything but simple thugs.

Dr. Sontagg began. "Thank you for coming so quickly, Mrs. Downs."

Susan spoke first, obviously distraught. "What happened to my boy?"

Dr. Sontagg seemed at a loss for words for a brief moment. "To be frank, Susan. We have no idea how your son came to be in this new condition."

The security guard spoke next. "To be more accurate, we suspect your son was attacked by someone or some people."

Susan gasped tearfully. "Attacked? By who?"

"Who, we don't know. However, we are continuing to investigate to find who attacked your son…but I'm afraid it's going to be difficult. While this building has electronic surveillance, there was no sign of any suspicious activity on that floor. While your son was in surgery again, we checked out the room and windows. No sign of forced entry."

"Surgery?" Susan asked. "What happened?"

Dr. Sontagg almost seemed reluctant to answer, but finally managed to say. "I must be clear; we have no idea what could cause this kind of damage…" The doctor took a brief moment to breathe before speaking again. "Something caused the metal plating and screws in your son's head to be…dislodged."

All the color left Susan's face at that instant, and she felt very weak in her legs. Perceiving that the woman might faint, the doctor and the guard quickly helped her to a seat. The Professor looked on after the three with pity in his heart for the woman. Magneto's punishment on Jason could have killed him had he persisted. Even now, Jason was in grave danger if he ever faced Magneto again. The Professor's brow deepened in thought. What would they have to do to prevent Magneto from exploiting such a weakness again?

His attention returned to the three as he heard the doctor continue. "We were able to reset the break and refasten the plates…" Then he sighed. "…but your son has fallen into a coma once again."

Susan looked up at that. "Will…will my son come out of it?"

Dr. Sontagg pursed his lips. "The truth is, Mrs. Downs…I don't know. Considering the possibility of additional brain damage that Jason may have sustained from whatever did this…his odds aren't good."

Susan held a tissue over her mouth at the news; the tears would soon flow freely.

"We haven't yet told your husband about Jason. I didn't want to inform him before informing you, considering his own condition."

The Professor watched as Susan took a moment to put on a brave face for the doctor, yet that face was slipping ever so surely. "Th-thank you, doctor. I'll…I'll tell him."

"Of course, Mrs. Downs. If you need my assistance, or if Jason reawakens, please let one of our nurses know and I'll do my best to get up quickly. But for now, I must attend to my other patients." With that, the doctor got up and walked away, followed by the security guard shortly afterward. Once they were gone, Susan sank back into the chair again, distraught for her son.

The Professor thought about what he needed to do: he needed to successfully sway both parents that Jason needed to come to the Institute, all the more important now with Magneto's interest in him. Yet, Jason's current state was problematic. While it was ultimately necessary that Rogue had to drain Jason to pacify him, it still presented a big problem. Thankfully, the doctor was blissfully unaware at how Jason came to be in that condition, and that the source of the coma had nothing to do with the injuries Jason had withstood. However, that didn't totally dismiss the odds that Jason would not survive the coma; the doctor's statement on the possibility of further brain trauma from the injury was a very real threat. He may need to confer with Dr. Strange to see just how Jason could handle his trauma, both physical and mental. This problem needed to be approached methodically, and the first step was to approach Susan once again, however uncomfortable this was, and reveal more about Jason.

Ororo had remained silent during this entire time, lost in her own thoughts, when the Professor mentally pinged her, not wanting to be overheard in the crowded hall. _"__Storm, __I __fear __that __we __must __now __approach __Mrs. __Downs __regarding __Jason. __If __we __wait __too __long, __Jason __will __be __lost __to __us.__"_

"_Are you sure, Professor. She had just heard some terrible news…"_

"_Yes, Ororo. We must intercept her before she leaves for Jason's room. If she leaves, we may never be able to approach them. I don't want to lose him…"_

Ororo made a strange face. _"__Professor, __I __know __that __we __need __to __protect __Jason __more __than __ever __before, __but __this __feels __opportunistic.__"_

"_I fear we have little room for choice, Storm. Even though Magneto failed this time around, I doubt he's given up on Jason; Jason's power is far too luring for one such as he. To Magneto, Jason could either become his greatest lieutenant, or among the greatest of enemies. If Jason gives in and joins Magneto next time, we won't have the power to stop Magneto after that. He would use Jason as the spear point for his ambitions."_

Ororo didn't answer right away. Approaching Mrs. Downs about Jason now felt akin to a heir to a fortune rushing a funeral so he could speak to the lawyers about his claim. Yet, the Professor was right about one thing: Magneto would try again. When they had tried to recruit Rogue, it was a long battle for Rogue's soul that took months, and it was a slip-up by Mystique that ultimately decided that battle in favor of the X-Men. With Jason, they may not be so lucky. While the Professor's drive to recruit often did border opportunism, the risks of losing those recruits were often too dire to take the cautious approach.

Finally, Storm relented. _"__All __right, __Professor, __I __understand.__"_

"_Thank you, Storm. However, I feel that I cannot approach Mrs. Downs myself; I had already approached her and she was on guard. You may have to step forward in my stead."_

"_Understood, Professor."_

Without another thought, Ororo left the Professor's side and made her way towards Jason, all the while wondering just how the conversation was going to play out. Ororo looked at Susan as she slowly approached her, and her heart stirred with pity. While she had no children of her own, she understood that kind of pain. A parent should never have to go through this kind of pain, but life was far too cruel and impulsive to adhere to such an ideal. Of all the recruiting she had aided the Professor with, this one was by far the most heart wrenching.

She was within reach of Susan when she finally spoke. "Are you all right?" She knew Susan clearly wasn't, but the thoughtfulness of the gesture outweighed the prospect that asking such a question was asinine.

Susan looked up surprised to see Ororo looking down compassionately at her. "Oh, am I bothering you? I'm so sorry…"

Ororo smiled. "No, you aren't bothering me." Ororo sat down in a nearby chair facing Susan. "What's bothering you, if you don't mind?"

"No, I don't." Susan dabbed her eyes before answering. "It's…it's my son. He got hurt in a tornado last week, and was just recovering...when…" Susan had to stop there for the moment. How could one explain their own son was apparently attacked by some unseen force that nearly ripped half of his skull to shreds.

Ororo waited patiently. She already knew what Jason had gone though, and even felt partially responsible for what happened to him, but she wasn't about to bring that up.

Finally, Susan tried again. "…my son is in a coma again. I don't know why, but he sank into one earlier this morning and hasn't woke up." Susan held up the well-used tissue to her mouth again. "I nearly lost both him and my husband to the tornado…and I can't bear losing either one of them to it."

Even though Ororo had an ulterior motive to be here, her compassion was genuine. Ororo reached out to Susan to lay a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay…you can talk to me…"

Ororo's soothing voice broke through Susan's tears, and she calmed some. Taking a few moments to breathe, she started. "Susan…Susan Downs."

"Ororo Munroe. Care to tell me a little bit about your son?"

Susan took another moment to gather her thoughts, and nodded. "Yes…I think I can."

"What's his name?"

"Jason. He's a good boy, always wanted to do whatever he could to make us proud. He does well in school and he doesn't mess around with the wrong crowd. He's…he's the best son a mother could ask for."

Ororo smiled at that. Somehow, she had that impression about Jason the first time she saw him, but it was nice to hear that it wasn't a false impression. "He sounds like he is."

"Oh, he is. I don't know how we ever found him, but we thank whatever fate brought Patrick and me to him."

Ororo blinked, genuinely surprised at the choice of words. "'Found?'"

Susan looked up. "Oh, I'm sorry, Ms. Munroe—"

Automatically, Ororo interrupted with "Please, call me Ororo."

"Then please, call me Susan. Jason—he's our son, but he wasn't born to us. We adopted him when he was just a baby. Yet we raised him as if he was born to us. A mother couldn't ask for a better son. Such a good boy…"

Ororo smiled, then asked. "Did he ever find out that he was adopted?"

"Yes…we told him ourselves when he was almost in high school. We thought it was best to tell him before he got too old."

"How did he react?"

"He's such a good boy. He took it very well. I…I was afraid he would take it hard…he never ceases to surprise me."

Ororo decided to see if she could try to steer the topic about Jason towards what she came for. "What else does he do in school?"

Susan paused to think about the question, then answered. "Oh, different things. He's tried gymnastics, only boy to do so, dance as well. But I think he's likes the theatre the best. Although, he did tell me that he thought about voice this coming semester." Susan realized she was rattling on. "Oh, I'm sorry. I don't even know why I'm telling you this."

Ororo smiled. "It's okay. It sounds like Jason is a good boy. I'm sure he'll be great when he leaves to take on the world."

Susan felt somewhat encouraged by the certainty of Ororo's statement, despite realistically it was difficult to see just what the future would bring to Jason, particularly as of late. Then, she thought of something. "It's odd, I've actually talked to someone else about Jason."

This caught Ororo's attention, and she had a hunch whom Susan was referring to. "Mind of I ask who?"

"He was some Professor of an Institute in New York—oh wait, I still have the brochure he gave me." Susan brought out her purse and proceeded to dig through it. "To be frank, I almost threw it away."

Ororo didn't say anything to that, however, she was surprised that Susan did _not_throw it away; worse has been done by furious parents.

Susan finally withdrew the brochure, handing it to Ororo. "Oh, here it is. You can take it if you wish."

Ororo instantly recognized it as the brochure for the Xavier Institute, and she pretended to look it over briefly. She hated to lie, but sometimes it was necessary. "Oh, I know this place," she said calmly.

Susan looked at Ororo anew. "You do?"

"Yes, it's a school for the gifted. It's a new school, really. I assume the man you spoke to was Professor Charles Xavier?"

"Why, yes it was!" Susan said.

"I thought so. He often oversees the recruitment himself, as he handpicks his soon-to-be students. It's a private institution, but you can't just enroll in there; the Professor has to find his next student himself. If Jason caught his eye, then Jason must be an exceptional boy." Ororo then thought, _"__More __so __than __you __realize__…"_

That statement hit Susan in a strange way. At one point, she felt proud of her son to get the notice of someone seemingly an authority in teaching. "I…I didn't realize."

"Perhaps you should talk to him again…or speak to Jason when he has gotten better about it." Ororo handed back the brochure. "Keep this. I'm sure the Professor would be delighted if Jason would come." Ororo then stood up. "I shouldn't keep you any longer. You should check on your son. Perhaps he has woken up by now."

Susan stood up as well. "Thank you, Ororo. If nothing else comes out of this, at least you helped me feel better."

"You're quite welcome. Give Jason my regards."

Susan nodded then made her way towards the elevators that led to the patient rooms. Ororo watched her go briefly then turned towards where the Professor had remained.

Upon her arrival, the Professor stated. "Well handled, Storm."

"Maybe, but I wish we could have gotten to the point where I could tell her that the school is a school for mutant-kind. I don't like lying, Professor."

"Neither do I, Storm, but you know as well as I do that we must protect those like us the best we can. Mrs. Downs will soon discover who her son really is soon enough. As much as I would like to be there with Jason when he comes around and tells the truth about himself, it seems that it will take someone else to guide Jason towards that.

"The field is ready. I have prepared the ground, Mrs. Downs knows about the Institute now, and will now inform her husband, to be sure. Jean planted the seeds in Jason's heart to accept who he is and what he will become. Next comes the watering, and the rest must be left to Jason to decide." The Professor smiled. "Not a bad analogy, if I do say so myself."

Ororo then looked at Charles. "'Watering?' Whom do you have in mind?"

"I didn't have him in mind, but he's already gotten started, however inadvertently," the Professor stated. "Young Piotr stayed behind in Jason's room after Stephen departed. Right now, he is speaking to the father right now…and telling him everything."

Ororo's eyes widened. "Is that wise?"

"I sense that Piotr feels that he must reveal everything now, as a result of Jason being in his current condition. It is out of our hands now. Piotr Rasputin will be the one to guide Jason towards the Institute, and perhaps the one that will convince the parents that it is the place the boy must go."

Ororo looked up from the Professor. So, it had come to this at last. The battle last night was just the opening rounds; the true battle was now just beginning. It now lay in Piotr's hands.

Ororo thought, _"__Please __be __careful __with __him, __Piotr. __He__'__s __in __your __hands __now.__"_

* * *

><p>Piotr had sat back down, and was aware that his back was wet with perspiration. He had just spent nearly an hour retelling last night as well as supplying the background information about it, including the central bombshell. Upon hearing it, Patrick didn't say anything for the longest time. The tension built to viscous proportions and it weighed heavily on the Russian youth. His heart barely beat as he waited for the spell of silence to break, and he braced himself for the worst.<p>

After dozens of agonizing seconds, Patrick finally breathed. "My son…a mutant."

Piotr swallowed what felt like a boulder. Patrick fell to silence again while his brain raced to process everything he heard. Patrick himself felt his mouth go completely dry, and had to swallow several times before speaking again. "I should have known…"

Piotr raised his head, but continued to say nothing.

"And because he's a mutant…this Professor Xavier wants to protect my son…and this Magneto…tried to take my son away, but nearly killed him. And you helped save him…"

Piotr pursed his lips; here it comes…

Patrick worked himself up as far as he could to look Piotr in the eye. "That about right?"

Piotr nodded slowly. "Yes, sir…every word."

Patrick looked at the still form of his son, Jason, hooked up to a beeping monitor and a hissing respirator. Piotr saw water start to pool in the father's eyes, which stirred pity in his heart. Patrick pursed his own lips. "That…bastard is so lucky I'm stuck in a wheelchair…because I would tear him apart myself for hurting my son!" Patrick hissed savagely.

Piotr was surprised at the fierce protectiveness the father displayed.

Patrick addressed Piotr again. "You said my son did not give in?"

Piotr nodded, but said softly, "Yes, he said no."

Patrick's brow lowered slightly over his eyes; did he see a glint of sorrow in the boy's eyes? "Is something wrong?"

Piotr blanched. "N-no, I'm sorry…"

Patrick's eyes narrowed. This boy was not a good liar, but decided not to pursue it. "So…Piotr…this mutation my boy has…what can he do?"

Piotr looked at Jason briefly before answering, as if he expected Jason to come out of his coma right there and then, but looked at Patrick again. "I…I don't know…I never see it before."

Patrick inquired further, "Can you describe it?"

Piotr rubbed the back of his neck as he remembered last night, seeing Jason perform alchemy, although he didn't know it at the time. The only real time he saw anything directly was when he and Kitty were trying to get close to Jason during the alchemic storm he had unleashed. "I don't know...but I think the Professor would know…"

"The one you told me about?"

"_Da_…"

"Tell me more about him then…"

"He's wonderful man," Piotr said automatically. "He find people like me and Jason so he can teach them how to use their power for good. He's so kind to me, telling me how to use my power to help people. He would teach Jason how to do the same, I'm sure…"

"I'm sure he would…" Patrick said thoughtfully.

"He told me that he look for people like us to protect them too."

"Protect them?"

"He said that many people are scared of us and hate us…"

As Piotr continued on, Patrick's mind flashed to a conversation he had with his son a few days prior regarding the so-called mutant agenda. He remembered a question that Jason asked: "I want to know…what you think about people that…might have a mutation like that?" It was then that Patrick realized where Jason was going with that question. He had an inkling that Jason had something to share asking a question like that, but he couldn't put his finger on it at the time. After Piotr spilled the beans on what Jason really is, now he know. Jason was warming up to approach his father as a mutant for the first time, and was testing the waters. Had Grandma Denise not interrupted, Jason may have actually revealed it to him. Ever since then, Jason had been oddly quiet and withdrawn. Patrick mentally sighed; Jason was a good boy, but sometimes had a hard time confiding in those closest to him with things like this. He remembered that fateful night when Jason revealed the tale in how he found out he was adopted, and had hid it for nearly three years. Of course, this time around, he couldn't blame him; both of them had been through more than any man should ever have to endure.

Patrick then looked at Piotr again. "Piotr…how does your Professor look out for you and the others, to protect them, I mean?"

Piotr looked confused. "I…I'm not sure what you mean…"

Patrick tried again. "I mean, do the other mutants come together to live together, or do they stay with their families?"

Piotr looked at Jason for the umpteenth time before answering. "Everyone I knew either left their families…or were already abandoned by them. He takes them to the Institute so they can live in safety. One day, he hopes that mutants can live outside the Institute safely, just like others."

Patrick somehow guessed that would be the answer. In order for Jason to be protected from another madman like this Magneto, he would have to leave. It seemed that he and Susan had some talking to do. As much as he would love for Jason to remain home, it was too dangerous now. This Magneto had tracked Jason to this hospital, and probably knew where they lived now. It was no longer safe for their son anymore. For his protection, he needed to leave.

He looked at Piotr, who was looking over Jason, looking every inch a worried parent. "Piotr?"

Piotr looked up at Patrick. "Yes, sir?"

"This is something I'm going to have to talk to my wife and Jason about. I'm sure you're Professor will understand why I can't let Jason go just yet. Thank you for telling me everything. If you need to leave now, it will be all right."

Piotr suddenly blurted out, "Uh—pardon me, sir…but can I stay here until Jason wakes up?"

Patrick made a strange face. "Ok, but why?"

"I…" Piotr looked at Jason once more, remembering how Jason stood defiant in front of Magneto, despite what Magneto could have done to him. "I need to ask him something…"

Patrick didn't answer. Something else must have happened on that roof, something Piotr wasn't wanting to talk about to just anyone, something for Jason's ears only. There was only one problem with that, and it wasn't Jason's being in a coma. "Piotr, you do realize that if you speak to Jason about whatever happened last night, I'll be able to hear it too, and that's considering he wakes up today."

Piotr blanched. Jason's father had picked up on the hint that something else happened on the rooftop. He had not expected him to pick up on that…plus he made a good point. Sighing sadly, he said, "Yes sir…but perhaps you need to hear this as well."

Now Patrick was curious, and better still he didn't even have to pry. He would merely overhear it. Perhaps it was for the best after all…

A knock at the door surprised both Patrick and Piotr, and both looked to see Susan walk in. Susan came in with a "How are you—" but that was as far as she got as she espied Piotr near Jason's bed. Several things happened at once: Piotr instantly blushed, Susan froze with her eyes widening, Patrick pursed his lips awkwardly, and a towel cart crashed into a wall down the hall noisily. The last shook the rest out of their respective trances, and at once Susan spoke to Patrick. "Who is this man, Patrick!"

Piotr stood up, his chair scraping across the floor behind him. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I am Piotr Rasputin—"

Patrick cut in. "Susan, it's not what you think…"

"What do you mean what I think?" Susan asked, her eyes narrowing.

"I not hurt him!" Piotr said earnestly.

Susan glared at Piotr. "Why are you here?"

"He saved our son's life!" Patrick added quickly.

Susan's voice climbed nearly a full octave. "From what?"

"Magneto!" blurted out Piotr.

"What's in heaven's name is a—"

"The man who attacked our son!" Patrick cut in again.

"Why would he do that!"

"Because he's a mutant!" Patrick and Piotr said at the same time.

Silence was the only response from Susan. A mutant? Their son was a mutant? It took several seconds before she could formulate a response. "How can this be?"

Patrick had never asked Piotr on how Jason or anyone else became a mutant, so he answered honestly. "I don't know, love, but he is one."

Susan glared pointedly at Piotr, who despite his size shrank underneath her scrutiny. "And this man told you this?"

Patrick headed Susan off. "Yes, he did…and I trust him."

Susan turned on Patrick. "What has he done to you to earn his trust?"

Patrick didn't back down. "He saved our son's life!"

Piotr looked back and forth from Susan to Patrick and back as this exchange continued. Susan answered, "Did he also say why he was attacked?"

"Yes, he did, Susan. Why don't you hear him out?" Patrick looked at Piotr.

Piotr sat back down in his chair, willing himself to relax. "Your son was attacked by Magneto…Magneto saw Jason's power and wanted him to use it for him. Jason said no, and kept saying no, even though Magneto may have killed him by doing so. I stopped Magneto, and with some help I…" Piotr didn't wish to reveal that Jason lost it on the rooftop; he couldn't worry the parents any more than they already were. "…I take Jason here…"

Susan began to relax some. This boy didn't appear to be lying, and appeared to be pleading. "How did he get hurt exactly?"

Piotr swallowed before answering. "Magneto has power of magnetism. He used cable to tie Jason up, and used magnetism on the…" Piotr swallowed again, as if what he was about to say next sickened him. "…metal plates in his head."

Susan's mind flashed back to the testimony of the security guard and Dr. Sontagg. Dr. Sontagg said that something caused Jason's metal plates holding his skull to shift, more so the screws. Could this Magneto person really be responsible? "So, this Magneto tried to use my son because he has this…power you claim…and because our son wouldn't do it, he tried to kill him?"

Piotr nodded.

"There's more to it than that," Patrick added. "But that's a long story."

Susan crossed her arms. "I'm sorry, but I find this hard to believe."

Patrick pursed his lips, as Piotr looked down, and then answered firmly. "Honey, it makes sense! Jason was perfectly fine yesterday, and during the night he was attacked. Why would someone attack our son in a hospital? Wouldn't it have been easier to attack someone not so hard to get to if it was random? Also, the injuries to his head! What could possibly pull the screws from our son's head besides powerful magnetism? If this Magneto does have the power of magnetism, he could do that and much more. He could have ripped Jason's skull apart!" Susan paled at that prospect, but Patrick continued nonetheless. "According to Piotr, Magneto isn't some person who will kill people on a moment's notice. Instead, Magneto was punishing Jason…for refusing to work with him! And Piotr…" Patrick had to pause, as just how grateful he was to this boy for saving his son's life became more and more apparent. "…this man…saved our son."

This time Piotr spoke up. "Magneto tried to threaten Jason with pain…but when that didn't work…he…" he looked at Patrick. "…he threatened to kill his father."

Susan couldn't take that. She had to sit down. "What kind of monster…?"

Piotr's face hardened with hatred. "Magneto is a liar. He says he want to help our kind, but by hurting other people too. He wants mutants to rule, not live in harmony."

Patrick finally understood. Magneto wasn't just any mutant with a lot of power; he was a mutant with a lot of power that had a supremacist agenda. At the base of it all, he was building an army to start a war that humans might not win. Jaosn stood up for not only himself, but his family and humans everywhere. Never was he more proud of his son.

Suddenly, out of the blue, a weak voice drifted up. "It's…all true."

All looked in surprise at Jason's bed, just in time to see his eyes flutter, trying to open. Jason took a sharp breath in every time he spoke. "Every word…is true…"

Piotr felt all the tension in his muscles leave in pure relief, while Susan felt her blood flow again as he rose up and raced to Jason. "My poor boy!"

Jason automatically said. "Please…don't touch me…I hurt…a lot…"

Patrick spoke next. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I feel like…my head is an…overripe tomato…ready to explode."

Susan stood up. "I should get the doctor…"

Jason reached up to his mother. "Not yet…I need to tell you something…"

"We already know, son…" Patrick said.

Jason tried to turn to his father, only to find that his neck was put in a stiff brace again. "I…wanted to tell you…"

Susan sat down again. "Shh, it's okay…"

"When did you find out you were?" Patrick asked.

"A few days ago…" Jason breathed. "…Jean…Jean helped me."

"Jean?" Susan said. "You mean that girl I ran into the hallway?"

"Red hair?"

"Yes."

"That's her. She's one too. She helped me a lot, Mom…" Jason swallowed. "…they are good people, and want to help me."

"Who?" Susan asked.

"The Institute…" Patrick finished.

Susan looked at Patrick, while Piotr remained silent. "How do you know about the Xavier Institute?" Patrick motioned to Piotr, and Susan looked at him again. "You're one of _his_ students then."

Piotr replied shyly. "_Da_…"

Jason intervened. "Peter here…he's a great guy. They all are: Wolverine, Storm…they did so much to keep me safe…"

Piotr spoke up again. "The Professor knew that Magneto would try to get Jason, so we protect him."

"It's all true, Mom…" Jason said weakly.

Susan spoke up again. "Wait a minute, Professor Xavier said that his school is a school for gifted children…"

Jason had to smile at that. "Well…it is…just a different kind of gifted."

"The Professor helps us by teaching us how to use our gifts to help people. He's wonderful man…" Piotr added.

Patrick asked. "What can you do, anyway? If you don't mind, that is…"

Jason glanced at Piotr, who answered. "My skin…I can turn it into this metal. It makes me stronger."

"And tougher…" Jason added. "He's pretty much a tank."

Piotr blushed at that. "The Professor said I can use my power to help people by doing things that no one can do. I was born on farm; I am good with building and hard work."

Patrick smiled. "I'm sure you are…"

Susan all this while was trying to sort this all out. All this time, the offers for the Institute, Jean offering to help Jason, now this…all were fronts for the true purpose: to recruit Jason for this institute and protect him. "Why didn't the Professor just tell me about this Institute when we met, or even tell me that our son is—" Susan suddenly had a brain wave. "Wait…how did the Professor know our son was a mutant so quickly?"

Piotr replied. "The Professor use…computer…called Cerebro. It can detect new mutants in all over country. I…I don't know how it works…"

That was news to Jason. "So that's how he found me…I'd like to know how that works…"

Susan felt rather revolted that there was technology out there that could pick out a person from the millions around, and it seemed to confirm her earlier suspicions that the Professor was a bit of an opportunist, but she said nothing.

Patrick finally asked. "Son…now that we know you're a mutant…can you tell us just how you are mutated?"

Jason smiled. "How about I show you?"

Piotr instantly looked concerned. "Are you sure?"

"It's okay…this won't hurt me…" Jason said, but then added as an afterthought. "I think…is that big cloth pillow still around?"

Piotr looked around, and quickly spotted the transmuted blanket that Jason had accidentally morphed a few days prior. Picking it up, Piotr said, "This one?"

"Yeah, that's it. Lay it on my chest." He peered at his mother and father, and started opening and closing his hands. "If I do this right, it should become a blanket; if I don't, it'll just turn into something else."

"You aren't even sure?" Susan said apprehensively.

"I only tested it once, and I was under a bit of pressure at the time. If my hunch is right, if I get a mind's eye on what the blanket used to look like, I can change it back to what it was."

"Change it back?" Patrick asked.

"Yeah, I…" Jaosn smiled sheepishly. "I accidentally changed it my first day here. Now, let's see if I can do this right…"

Slowly but surely, Jason raised his arms, trying to ignore his complaining ribs. Everyone else waited in silence as his arms slowly closed together in a clap. Jason grimaced as the familiar shocking pain lanced up and down his arms, all the more painful thanks to his recent injuries. Willing himself to take the pain, he grabbed the blanket. All watched mystified as a storm of green alchemic energy surged through the blanket, changing it, flattening it. In a matter of seconds, the pillow turned back into its original form: a blanket.

When the transmutation was complete, Piotr could only say, "Amazing…"

Patrick found his tongue. "What did you do?"

"Magneto called it _alchemy_, an old mystical science that allows me to change anything into something else, providing I can understand its chemical and physical makeup. According to him, it's the closest thing to being God."

That sent chills down both his parents' respective backs, and they looked at each other nervously. Patrick finally managed to say. "He didn't want you…he wanted to control your power."

Jason wanted to nod. "Yeah…he even said that I'm a god among insects. I didn't believe him, and he didn't really like that."

Susan and Patrick looked at each other once again, and then looked back at Jason, both smiling. Susan spoke up. "Jason, I'm proud of you. That was a very brave thing you did."

"I sure didn't feel brave…"

Patrick answered, "How many times have I told you that courage isn't the absence of fear, but the facing of it? I'm sure you were scared spit-less…"

"Oh, thanks…" Jason said with mild sarcasm.

"But you made the right decision…even if he threatened my life. Son, I don't think I have ever been this proud of you before…"

Now it was Jason's turn to smile. "Didn't you say that at the science fair?"

As the family shared a laugh, Piotr had remained silent. This latest string of conversation reminded him of the question he wanted to ask Jason, and at the same time, it reminded him of his own shame and guilt.

Patrick spoke up. "Piotr?"

Piotr snapped his head up, startled at hearing his name called. "Y-Yes, sir?"

"It seems we owe this Professor and your friends, Piotr, a great debt, one that we can never repay. Thank you for protecting our son…"

Susan looked at Piotr, and regretted ever being suspicious of him. "Thank you so much, young man. I'm glad someone as brave as you stood up for Jason."

Piotr blushed, but at the same time was shocked. Him? Brave? No, that could not be right! He wasn't brave. He was a coward! He gave into Magneto, and these people called him brave? Piotr was at a loss for words, and he couldn't find the words to object!

Jason noticed. "I think we broke him…"

Susan finally got up. "I should get the doctor now. I'll be back soon, Jason…" With that, she left the room.

Jason called out after her. "Later, Mom…" Jason then peered at Piotr, who still hadn't quite recovered. "Are you all right?"

Piotr finally found his tongue. "I…I'm fine."

"_All evidence to the contrary…"_ Patrick thought as he noted the teen's poorly hid nervousness, but then remember something. "Piotr, didn't you have something to ask Jason?"

This time, Piotr sat stock still, as if he petrified into a statue. Obviously, this was news to Jason. He peered at Piotr, mentally cursing his neck brace. "Peter?"

Piotr swallowed hard, and his mouth felt extremely dry. All the while Jason was unconscious, he had been mentally rehearsing just what he wanted to say to Jason, but now the time has come, he found himself unable to speak. He knew what he wanted to ask, but he couldn't say it! Goddamn it, he was too cowardice to even ask a question. Finally, he gave up. He promptly stood up. "I—I got to go…"

"Wh-what? Go where?" Jason asked, surprised.

Patrick was just as surprised. "What's the matter? Why the change of—?"

"Please, I…I need to go!" Piotr insisted. Without another word, he surged out of the room like he thought he had been sharing a room with a serial killer.

Needless to say, Jason and his father were completely perplexed by this set of events. "What just happened? Was it something I said?" Jason said. For some reason, he felt like it was his fault.

"I don't know, son…" Patrick's gaze had followed Piotr out the door. "I…just don't know."


	9. Chapter 8: Answer

**CHAPTER 8:**** Answer**

* * *

><p><em>Who is that [man] I see<br>__Staring straight back at me?  
><em>_Why is my reflection someone I don't know?  
><em>_Somehow I cannot hide  
><em>_Who I am though I've tried  
><em>_When will my reflection show who I am inside?_

__–_"Reflection" (revised) ©1998 _Mulan_soundtrack, original lyrics by David Zippel_

Logan was scouting the alleys in downtown Oklahoma City, all the while being discreet about it. While the Professor and Storm were working with Jason and the family, he felt there was something that needed to be checked out as soon as possible. He had heard that Storm had blasted Deathstrike off the roof last night, and after a little Q&A, he made an educated guess on where she might have landed. Part of him doubted that he'll find what he is looking for, but it was a lot better to check than to wonder. After all, with someone like Lady Deathstrike, you can never be too sure.

As he travelled up and down several dirty alleys, he came upon what looked like to be a pawn shop that looked like it had been broken into, quite literally in this case. Already, there was a crowd of the curious trying to see what had gone down, but police tape kept them from getting too close. He looked at the scene with mild disinterest and continued on his hunt. However, when he stepped past it, his nostrils flared. He caught Deathstrike's sent. Turning, he scanned the area to see where it could be coming from. Remembering to stay incognito, he wondered towards the crowd, sniffing quietly as he went. The smell grew stronger as he closed in, and when he encountered the police tape, he took one sniff. His eyes half-closed grimly. So, this is where she landed. A quick look-in showed that the inside was a shambles, but without going inside, there was no way to tell if she had really been inside the shop. However, the smell was good enough for the Wolverine. Turning away, he made his way back to the hospital. The Professor would need to hear about this.

Lady Deathstrike had survived that trip…and if Logan knew her, she would be coming for whomever saw her disgraceful defeat…and slice them up. Logan growled; if she did, he would be waiting with claws of his own, and she wouldn't have Magneto to back her up this time.

* * *

><p>Piotr had dashed through the hallways, which had attracted the attention of any patient and nurse in his way, but he didn't cast them a glance even as he breezed by. His mind was set for only one destination: the nearest men's lavatory. It took him a few moments to locate one, but once he did, he didn't break his pace and marched right in. The lavatory was unoccupied, but he made no notice. He went for the largest stall, shut the door behind him and locked it, sat down on the toilet…<p>

…and began to cry.

Clapping his strong hands over his eyes, every pent-up tear that he had locked away since entering Magneto's service two years ago came rushing out in a stinging stream of sorrow. He wept bitterly, bewailing every second he spent under the service of that vile man, Magneto. He bemoaned his cowardice for hesitating to leave Magneto when he saw the evil within that man. He mourned his inability to ever look his parents and his dear sister in the eye because he was afraid they would see the vileness within him. He keened the memories of each act he did for the "betterment of mutantkind." But on top of all that, he was lamenting that people saw his acts as bravery, when all he could see in himself was a coward, a shame to his family, his country and his race. He cast upon himself every shame and dishonor he could think of like dirt, and they saw him as a brave man? What shame!

He was so lost in his sorrow that he didn't even notice that his flesh had turned into the steel that gave him the name _Colossus_. Only when he looked at his hands did he notice, and in the metal plates on his hands, he saw his own reflection. When he did, he hated himself, he hated every single molecule. His own reflection was mocking him! How dare it show the face of a hardened man encased in steel, when he was weaker than sand?

Yet, through the river of tears he shed, one thing kept pushing his way to the surface. Something deep down was telling him that he was indeed brave, and that not everything he was blaming himself for was his fault. The Professor knew the circumstances on why he was stuck under Magneto's thumb, as well as some of the other X-Men, but Piotr never talked about it, so neither did any of them. All he knew now what that his sister and family were now in safety, but he had no idea where, in case Magneto would try to use them as leverage again. All he knew was that they were safe.

No secrecy wiped away any shame though, for he blamed his family's fate on himself. He was the reason why they were gone from the family farm that had belonged to the Rasputin men for generations…all because he approached the wrong man to help his ailing sister. It was his entire fault. Everything he did under Magneto was all done for fear if he disobeyed, little Illyana would die…a slow painful death by her disease. That was more than he could stand, so he obeyed every command Magneto gave him, even though it felt like his heart was being thrashed with a whip every time he did.

Now, he was an X-Man…although the new association did little to instill him with confidence. Under the new uniform was the same self-defeating coward, or so he thought. He had only been with the X-Men a few months now, and nothing changed. He missed his family, he missed the farm, but they were sold away as part of his hellish bargain with Magneto, never for him to see again. Such is the fate of all cowards and traitors.

But…Jason's family…they didn't call him a coward, for they saw only one thing: bravery…for saving Jason from a terrible fate. His mind told him that it was just because they didn't know his true self…but his heart…he felt his heart beat to a different beat, like…he hoped that's what they saw…because if they indeed saw bravery in him…then was there hope for him yet?

The tears began to slow, giving his metallic face sheen like it never had seen before. He looked in his hands again and saw his reflection again. At one glance, he saw the same old Piotr…but a second glance showed something else…it showed Piotr Rasputin, the mighty Colossus…wanting…pleading…begging. But…what was he craving so badly? Was it courage? Maybe, but was that what he really wanted? He didn't really know…

…maybe…that was something Jason could help him out with. He felt ashamed once again, but a different kind of shame, an embarrassed shame for leaving Jason just like that when his brain and heart clashed in that room. Right now, they were at a truce, and he hoped it would stay that way for the time he needed to march back to the room and get then answer he needed. Looking up, he suddenly remembered that Jason's mother had gone to get the doctor, and if the doctor beat him to the room, Jason would likely be taken away for more tests!

He stood up so quickly that his head banged against the ceiling, and his increased size dislodged the door from his hinges, revealing the mirror across from him, showing his entire metal self. Concentrating, his skin reverted to flesh and his height decreased by an entire foot. Giving himself a quick one-over in the mirror—and convincing himself that his red-rimmed eyes wouldn't show that much—he quickly exited the door.

He was surprised at how long the walk back felt; he barely even remembered the walk to the lavatory, nothing but a blur. He tried to ignore the stares from the patients and the nurses that were in the hallway, hoping they were just gawking at his size rather than the condition of his eyes. In due process of time, he returned to room 252 and here he stopped to think about what he wanted to ask. His heart began to race from nervousness, and he felt his thoughts muddy up again. Fighting to concentrate, he whispered to himself that he needed to ask this question over and over. Finally, taking one apprehensive breath, he knocked on the door and peeked in.

He met the gaze of Patrick, and saw that Jason was trying his best to see the door. His father spoke first, "Piotr? Are you okay?"

Piotr could only nod for a bit. "I am…better."

"Pardon me for saying so," Jason cut in. "But what the hell just happened?"

"I…needed to think." That was the truth, he told himself. Doubtless Jason's father had noticed his red-rimmed eyes, but apparently had the wisdom to not inquire on it. To divert the attention, he asked, "May I sit down?"

"Of course," Patrick said, followed up with Jason saying, "Yeah."

Piotr made his way to the seat he was at moments ago. Here, he took a few more breaths as if he was anxiously waiting for the moment to perform on stage. Patrick and Jason waited patiently. Finally, it paid off. Piotr finally started. "Jason…I…I need to ask you question." Piotr hastily added. "If that's all right, that is…"

Jason briefly glimpsed at his father, who nodded, and then he looked back at Piotr. "What's up?"

"Uh…nothing?" Piotr realized that was not what Jason meant. Embarrassed, he continued. "How did it…how did it feel?"

Jason's brow lowered in confusion. "I'm not following…"

Piotr blurted it out. "When you faced Magneto…did you feel brave? Were you afraid? What did you want to do?"

"Whoa-whoa! Slow down!" Jason said, raising a hand.

Piotr found that he was gasping, and tried to slow his heart down. Feeling redder than a radish, he apologized.

"What did I feel when I saw Magneto, huh?" Jason repeated the question to himself. "I guess you didn't hear earlier…I was terrified."

Piotr looked up; he wasn't expecting that. "Terrified? But…but you held your ground!"

"Oh, trust me. I was so close on giving in. After that wire was wrapped around me, and Magneto threatened me to rip my plates out, it was all I could do not to give in and go with Magneto, if only to ease the pain and leave Wolverine alone…"

Piotr was engrossed. "What happened?"

"I remembered what he wanted to do with my powers, and I had this horrific image that I would use them against my own family. That would kill me faster than whatever Magneto or that woman with the claws could do."

"But then he threatened your family…or moreover…" he looked at Patrick.

"He threatened to kill me," Patrick added.

Jason grimaced at that memory. "That was the hardest thing I ever could have done. That's where I nearly accepted. I begged and pleaded not to hurt Dad, but that's what he wanted. I was an idiot."

The self-cast insult surprised Piotr even more.

"As I lay there, I imagined every outcome that immediately shot to my head. If I refused, he'd move one hand and even though I wouldn't hear it, I could hear my Dad scream in utter agony in my head…then die just as fast. I swear I'm going to have nightmares about that…" Jason's eyes felt wet. "Then, one thought absolutely terrified me. If I accepted, I felt like I would leave right there and then, and if I ever ran into my Dad again, he'd look so disappointed. If I accepted, my family would suffer. If I refused, my dad would suffer a terrible death. I…I couldn't bear it…"

Tears began to stream from Jason's eyes, and he wiped them away with his blanket. Patrick could watched with a pitying sorrow, as his own son retold how he had just faced the worst decision in his life all alone. Piotr lowered his own head. Jason had suffered the same pain he had endured, and that's why he suddenly found the courage within himself to ask Jason more, to discover how Jason triumphed where he failed. "What happened next?"

Jason sniffed once before continuing. "Either scenario looked terrible, but something inside of me just awoke, some kind of anger. Something screamed inside of me that no matter what happened, I couldn't let this madman use my family as leverage on my soul. It was not worth the pain and suffering. I knew what I had to do, and I was scared spit-less to do it…but I knew that if I didn't do it, I would suffer because of it, as well as my family. So…I told him no…in no uncertain terms."

Piotr remembered that part, and he came around shortly before Jason's transmutation, and heard just enough to reason that Magneto was threatening Jason's family. He remembered as well that his heart screamed that if he did nothing, Jason would either die or worse. Therefore, he leaped up and confronted Magneto face to face, something he had never done before, but he did that night.

"That reminds me," Jason said. "Peter…do you know Magneto from somewhere else?"

Piotr blanched at this question. He them remembered why Jason would ask that. Jason was just behind him when Magneto threated to harm his own family again, and Piotr shouted back with rage that he was no longer afraid.

He was no longer afraid. Piotr had never stopped to consider what he just did was face his absolute worst fear last night, and did not back down…for the first time ever. That's it! He faced his fear, and spat in its face! For the first time in a long time, a mystified smile began to etch across his face as he looked at his hands, and his heart felt like it sprouted wings and was soaring into the stratosphere.

Jason and Patrick once again looked perplexed, and Jason had to ask. "Uh…did I just miss something?"

Piotr's mind came back down to earth. "Oh, uh…I'm sorry."

"What happened?"

"I just remembered something…what did you ask me again?"

It was Jason's turn to smile. "I was just asking if you knew Magneto before last night? You talked to him like you had a history."

Piotr felt the shame of his past try to chain him up again, but he fought them off. "Yes, I do."

Patrick and Jason looked at each other. Patrick then spoke, "Want to tell us about it?"

For the longest time, Piotr refused to talk about those days to anyone, but all that led to was heartache and loneliness. But now, he felt ready to share for the first time. He found a friend in Jason, for both of them had faced down the same evil, and he felt like he can confide in his deepest darkest secrets in this man.

"Well…it's a bit of a story…"

"I think we got time…" Jason cut in.

"_Da_…well…I come from the Ust-Ordynski farming collective in Russia. When I discovered I was mutant, I used it to help family and Ust-Ordynski community. Life was hard but good. My brother was cosmonaut for Russia, made us proud…" Piotr looked down sorrowfully. "He died in rocket accident."

That strummed familiar strings within Patrick. He was alive during the _Challenger_ and _Columbia _disasters, and those were felt across the nation, but Piotr here had it the worst. He lost family to something like those disasters. "I'm so sorry…" Patrick said.

Piotr breathed in before continuing. "Soon after, mother has daughter, my sister, Illyana. She is good sister, but she's sick. Doctors say she have cystic fibrosis…"

Jason winced at hearing that. He knew someone who had died at a young age from that. It was a horrible way to die.

Piotr's eyes became sad as he continued. "Doctors say she need medicine to live, but we are poor farmers. We cannot afford medications. We lost hope…then one day, while I was working…" Piotr then looked like he tasted a sour grape. "_He _approached me."

There was no need to specify who _he_ was, and both Jason and Patrick picked up on it. "Magneto…" Jason growled.

"He told me what I was and that I could become part of a greater community, one that needed my strength to survive oppressors that would surely come to wipe our kind out. I said that I was already happy, working at the farm, and that I needed to take care of my little sister." Here, Piotr started to look ashamed. "He…he asked about Illyana…and asked about her illness. He then…" Piotr's head lowered even more. "He offered a deal…"

Jason saw it coming. "Oh my God…he didn't…"

Piotr nodded subtly. "He offered to give little Illyana the treatment she needed to live…in exchange…I join Magneto and his Acolytes…"

Fury burned so hot in Jason that he felt like exploding in rage. "That bastard!" he said angrily. "I should have knocked him on his ass on the rooftop!"

"The feeling is mutual, son…" Patrick said. "But don't get too excited…you only just woke up…"

Sure enough, that outburst upset his headache, and he had no choice but to calm down. "Yeah…I'm sorry…"

Piotr felt encouraged that Jason would feel indignant on his behalf, angry even, yet the shame remained. "At first, it was good. I helped build bases around world, and my sister was getting better. I hoped that soon I can return to farm with my sister all better…but…well…"

Jason interrupted. "I think I can guess where this is going: Magneto wasn't going to let you go and just to make sure, he would stop the treatments immediately on Illyana."

Piotr lowered his head so low that he was now looking down at the floor. He didn't answer, but Jason could see Piotr's head dip and rise ever so slightly with sorrow. Jason had been on the money. Jason wished he could sit up and offer any comfort he could, and cursed his restraints once again. "I get it now…that's why you jumped in the way…" Jason's mind flashed to last night when Piotr had leaped up between Magneto and himself, as if he was going to take the bullet for Jason. "…you didn't want him to take me like he took you…"

Piotr looked up, tears flowing from his eyes. "I may not have saved myself…or my family…but I couldn't allow him to take another person like he took me…I never want to see that ever again!" Piotr clapped his large hands over his eyes, as if the memories of his time as an Acolyte were flashing before his eyes.

Patrick felt pity for Piotr: basically turned into a slave to keep his sister alive, and with no hope of ever getting out of it without sacrificing his sister. Jason had faced sacrificing his own father last night, but Jason somehow averted that consequence. There was no way of knowing that, however, and neither would Piotr ever foresee any way to avert his own consequences. Piotr was trapped, enslaved to Magneto. To Piotr, that was a fate worse than death.

Jason had a mix of emotions. He felt pity for Piotr obviously and rage at Magneto for doing something so heinous to someone as caring and loyal as Piotr…but on top of all, he felt a sense of relief at the near miss he had experienced. Piotr was the living example of what Jason nearly ended up becoming, and he was thankful for Piotr for sharing that with him. Jason reached out a hand towards Piotr, hoping to find his hand, but sadly he was out of reach. Not giving up, he slapped the bedframe just enough to get Piotr's attention.

Piotr looked up to see Jason's hand resting mere inches away from him. Silently, his eyes traveled up Jason's arm to meet his eyes. Once they made contact, Jason asked. "Can I ask you another question, Peter?"

Piotr paused for a moment, and then nodded.

"Do you blame yourself for all that?"

Piotr blanched briefly, then lowered his head again. "Yes…I do…I am to blame."

Jason's brow fell over his eyes. "Why?"

That simple question caught Piotr off-guard, and as a result he had to ask another question. "Did you not just hear me tell you?"

"What I heard…" Jason said. "Is someone who sacrificed everything so he could keep his sister from a terrible death, even if it meant selling your soul to the devil." Piotr looked up, looking confused but kept silent as Jason continued. "I can't blame you for trying to protect your sister. I nearly did the same exact thing, and I got lucky, but things could have ended very badly for me and my family last night. You chose to protect your sister, even if it meant serving that bastard Magneto. You did everything for the right reason, Peter…I'd say that even puts God on your side."

Piotr was astounded. Not once had he saw the past two years of his life under Magneto's thumb in that light, and it took all of two minutes for Jason to see it that way. He found himself speechless again, but this time in pure amazement.

"Peter, I may not know you very well, but from what I've seen, you care about your sister as if you'd die without her, and that you have a good heart…probably better than mine even. Doing whatever Magneto commanded you to do was heartbreaking, but you couldn't get out because if you stopped, your sister would die. It was the ultimate lose-lose situation. You needed help, but where would you go to get it? Unless something miraculous happened, there was no escape. Why should I blame you for that? If keeping your sister safe is a sin, Peter, then I'm one sinner bound for hell…" Blinking, he added as an afterthought. "…and so would my Dad…"

Patrick chuckled at such a grim joke. "Very funny, son…"

"Only because it's true…probably," Jason smiled and continued. "Where was I? Oh yeah, I have another question. Since you're not a slave under Magneto anymore…what happened?" Jason quickly added. "That is, if you are comfortable with telling me…"

"I…I think I can…but it's a little confusing…for me…" Piotr breathed in again before continuing. "One mission, I ran into Wolverine. We fought and he beat me…"

Jason could only imagine how.

"…but…it's because I did not want to hurt him. I just wanted him to leave. One time, he taunted me as he expected more from lackey of Magneto. I said I was no lackey…and I had no choice. I did not know why I tell him that…but I did. He made this face and asked what Magneto had over me. I could not say anything because I was afraid Illyana might get hurt if I tell him. After that, I leave Wolverine behind and return to base. I never saw him again after that…

"One day, I was with Illyana…when I finally made up my mind that I needed to escape and take my sister away. I could find new doctor…One night, I escaped and took Illyana and a little food with me. I got away, but we were found out. Deathstrike found me…"

Jason's eyes widened. Patrick had to ask. "Who's 'Deathstrike?'"

Jason answered. "One messed up woman. She was ready to kill me last night for no reason; she's scary…real scary…"

"She is terrible woman, _da_. She trapped us, and was deciding what to do with us. I couldn't defend myself without hurting Illyana, and I couldn't let her hurt my sister. Suddenly, Wolverine appeared again and attacked Deathstrike. He yelled at us to run into nearby fog. So, I did. There, I met white-haired woman in black clothes."

"Storm?" Jason ventured.

"Da, Storm. She told us to hurry and follow her. She took us to their jet and Storm had us hide there and she went to get Wolverine. When they return, they take us to Institute. I asked about my parents and Professor on board said they already take care of them. When we arrived, Professor told me that in order to keep them safe, my family and Illyana would have to be placed in place that I cannot know where. If I know and Magneto capture me, he could find my family and kill them. I said I understood…but I was very sad about it."

"I can see why…" Jason said softly. "That's rough…"

"That was just three months ago. I stay at Institute now, wondering if I can ever see family again. I miss my family…and I worry about Illyana."

That struck Jason as odd. Surely the Professor was the kind of man that would tell Piotr that his family were faring well, including Illyana. "Did you ever ask the Professor?"

Here, Piotr hung his head in shame. "No…I did not want to talk about what happened to me. Because of me, my family now hidden somewhere and I will never know where…they are gone from family farm, and it is my fault. I never tell anyone about that…until now."

"You never told anyone else but me, and you held it in for three months?" Jason asked, shocked.

"Yes, that is true."

"Damn…" That's all Jason could say. "All the sudden, my problems don't feel nearly so bad. I may be horrifically hurt, and nearly died…but my family is still here. You can't even see or find yours. I don't know how I could live with that."

"I constantly regret ever having seen Magneto in my life. If I have been braver, if I had been stronger, I could have done something else…and never lived the last two years. I wonder if it would have been different…iIt haunts me to this day…" Piotr placed his face in his hands again.

"_Two years…"_ Jason thought. _"I doubt I could have lasted a week…" _As he tumbled the last few things Piotr had said in his head again, the words _braver_ and _stronger_ stuck out. He then remembered something from a book that he had been assigned to read in his Freshman literature class,_ Prince Caspian_. In the book, Lucy asks Aslan if she is never to know what would have happened, and Aslan answer was simple: "To know what _would_ have happened? No, nobody is ever told that…but anyone can find out what _will_ happen." That was a topic of discussion in that class: there are things that we can never know…all we can do is find out what consequences will transpire when we make our choices. Jason had to smile; he never thought he would glean a life lesson from Literature…but maybe that's the point of school.

"Peter?" Piotr raised his head. Jason noted the red in his eyes. "I have to ask. What are you looking for?"

Piotr blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You keep beating yourself up over this, even though I don't see why you need to shoulder the blame. If I was in your situation, I may have done the same thing. You even said yourself you tried your best to get Illyana out of Magneto's grip, and thanks to the X-Men, you did. You keep saying that you wished you were stronger or braver. As far as I'm concerned, you were pretty damn brave last night. You jumped right in between Magneto and me. And I think it takes a lot of fortitude to sacrifice so much for your little sister, just so she could have the chance to live a healthy life." Jason's eyes locked in on Piotr's eyes. "Peter, I will go as far to say that I think you are braver and stronger than me, and more than I'll ever be."

Piotr looked stunned. He had always expected for someone to tear into him, screaming that there was always another way and that he was an idiot for giving in, and now he was getting what he deserved. He didn't get that at all; not from the X-Men, and nor from Jason. In fact, he would even go as far as to say that if they knew sooner, they would have helped him out. Jason's question echoed through his mind again: what was he looking for? That was the same question he had asked himself while in the lavatory. What was he looking for? He thought it was strength or courage, but the more he thought about it, he realized that wasn't what he was looking for at all. What did he want then? Redemption? Atonement? A reason to move on?

He thought about what Jason had said, about continually "beating himself up over it." Then, he saw what he really wanted, and he felt like such a fool for not realizing it before. It wasn't strength, courage nor redemption.

"I…I just want to be forgiven…for all I've done…"

Jason quickly answered. "By who?"

Again, that simple question caught him off guard, and he found himself unable to come up with an answer. "I…I don't know…"

Jason smiled. "Maybe that's the point. Perhaps you don't know because there's no one else but one person who should forgive you."

"One person?" Piotr repeated, then earnestly asked. "Who?"

"Yourself."

Piotr looked shocked.

"It's like I said before. The only one who's been constantly dragging you down with your past is yourself. Next to Magneto, no one else has really run you down about the past. Maybe, Peter, you should forgive yourself. You did your best, now stop blaming yourself for it."

Piotr looked down. Was it really that simple? How could he just let go like that when everything had gone to hell because of him? There it was again, he was blaming himself again. He thought about Jason's viewpoint about his past, seeing Piotr as a good brother who sacrificed everything for his family. The true tragedy was that Magneto had manipulated it to where they all suffered for it. A light shown in the mutant's head: his goal to save his sister was twisted around by Magneto. Piotr wasn't to blame…but Magneto!

Piotr's face hardened, but deep down he kicked himself for playing the fool for so long. Magneto had poisoned his mind into believing that he was the cause of all his problems. A new fury against Magneto burned within his heart. He found himself now wishing for forgiveness still, but for a different reason. He was wanting to be forgiven for being such a fool for so long.

"I understand," Piotr finally said determinedly.

Jason noted the change in Piotr's voice. "And you thought you didn't have the courage? You just proved yourself wrong, Peter."

Piotr felt like somebody had just made his burdens lighter. They were not completely gone yet; that would take time…but it was a welcome start.

Standing up, he felt taller than he ever was before—and that means a lot for someone as tall as he is. Looking down, he smiled meekly. "Thank you, Jason."

Jason smiled. "Anytime…"

Piotr felt that it was now his time to leave, although he didn't want to. Jason did so much for him and he wanted nothing more than stay here and talk more…about anything. Piotr mildly realized that he just made his first real friend since leaving the grip of Magneto. Even then, he reasoned that Jason needed to recover. He had a rough week and he didn't need someone like him bugging him, although some strange pricking in his heart told him that Jason wouldn't have minded in the least. "I must go to see Professor now…thank you again."

"Hey, speaking of the Professor…" Jason called out as Piotr turned to leave. "You should really talk to him…especially about your family."

Piotr paused at that. Perhaps he was right; the Professor was a good man, and maybe…it was time to talk to the Professor about what happened. He had a feeling that the Professor would only be too happy to help. "I think I will," Piotr finally said, then smiled. "Yes…I think I will…" He then looked at Jason and his father. "Thank you again…goodbye…"

With that, he promptly left the room, hearing Jason and Patrick call back goodbyes of their own. He wandered down the hallways, looking for a way to get down to the front lobby, where he guessed the Professor and Storm were waiting. He didn't know it, but a small grin had etched itself on his face, the first in a very long time.

In due process of time, he arrived in the lobby and quickly found the Professor and Storm waiting for him. They noticed him as he walked up. "I am ready to go now…"

The Professor smiled knowingly, and said. "All right. We shall return to the Institute. We've done all we can now…"

Piotr thought about Jason as they began to make their way towards the front door. He was aware that the Professor was recruiting him to join the Institute, but not everyone he recruited ever joined. Before he could stop himself, he asked, "Professor?"

"Yes, Piotr?"

"Do you think Jason will come to Institute?"

The Professor didn't say anything at first, but as they exited the hospital he finally said, "He just might, Piotr…he just might."

That seemed to reassure Piotr. Pausing a little to look back at the hospital, wondering which window was Jason's room, he gave a small smile and said. "I hope he does…"

"We do as well…" Ororo said. "But for now, we'll have to wait..."

Piotr nodded. Jason needed to rest and recover; however, he had high hopes that Jason would be fine, and for the first time, he felt happier than he could ever remember.

* * *

><p>Mystique stood atop the rooftop of the hospital, thinking about what happened last night. She was amazed initially to see the rooftop fully restored, then reasoned that Dr. Strange probably mended it before leaving. Being the Sorcerer Supreme did have its perks.<p>

The wizard wasn't what was on her mind, however. Last night was among the worst defeats the Brotherhood had amassed, thanks to a surprising show of fortitude from the young alchemist. Sure, he had been supported by the X-Men, but even in the face of what should have been irresistible offers and unshakeable threats, Jason still defied Magneto. This was the first young mutant she had ever seen that they were not able to manipulate into joining the Brotherhood. That disturbed her. Jason had to possess something that enabled him to have that kind of strength, even with him having a broken body, figuratively speaking.

Jason nearly died last night, and it had been severely close. While she was able to avert Magneto's near deadly mistake, she could not have prepared for the alchemic storm that nearly took Jason's mind…and all it took was a thunderstorm. Destiny was right…she was always right. Jason was on the edge of the knife that night, and he was nearly lost to them…on both sides.

Mystique picked up her communicator and dialed a number only she knew, and called. A few moments later, a woman answered. "Raven?"

It was Irene. "You were expecting me, of course."

"I did."

"Which means you probably know what I'm calling about."

"You are calling about the boy alchemist."

That was one thing that Mystique always depended on Irene about: her amazing perceptibility. "What do your visions see of the boy?"

"You know full well that most of the time, I see only pathways. I have no way to predict what exactly will befall Jason as he grows into his role on this Earth…"

"But…" Mystique prodded.

"…I did see something. Jason is destined to become great, greater than his dreams will ever show, but he will be tested, for he possesses something that so many people dream of but so few understand."

"_I knew it…"_ Mystique thought, and then said aloud. "And what is that?"

Destiny paused one moment. "Love."

That was something Mystique was not expecting, and was too stunned to answer.

"It is this love that will give him fortitude, give him strength when he is at his end, what will bear him to greatness…and will show him the one thing he will need above everything. That's as far as I can see of Jason, Raven."

"I see…" Mystique said quietly. "Thank you, Irene." With that, she hung up. Love? What kind of power was that? They used love to force even the mighty Colossus to bend his knee to Magneto. What was so different about the love Jason possessed that keeps him strong? Mystique scowled. She had no use for love; it was a tool to manipulate, nothing more.

She turned away and prepared to leave this place. There was much to do and little time to do it. If anything, she would distract herself from the lingering doubt that she was wrong.

* * *

><p>"And you're sure you don't remember what happened?" Dr. Sontagg asked Jason.<p>

"It's just a big blank. I remember seeing lightning last night, but that was it."

Unseen by the doctor, Patrick and Susan shared a small glance. Before the doctor had arrived, Jason and Patrick had agreed that Jason would have to lie about last night. Jason believed that even one slip about the truth last night could implicate the X-Men and mutantkind, revealing them, and not in a kind light considering what one had done to Jason already. Patrick agreed. Susan fretted at this decision, but Patrick was able to make her understand.

The doctor seemed to accept the lie. "Maybe it's for the best then. You received quite the blow to your head, whatever caused it."

Jason sighed, hoping that any relief on his face wasn't caught by the doctor's eyes.

Susan decided to step in. "Excuse me, doctor, but will Jason's injuries complicate…any recovery he has?"

Jason knew what his mother was talking about: the doctor's earlier prognosis of having Charcot's Syndrome.

"We would need to conduct further tests to see, but as of right now, there seems to be no new hemorrhages in his brain, and intracranial pressure is decreasing. Only time will tell if the hematomas from before have made any lasting damage."

The doctor stood up. "Hopefully, nothing else will happen that will complicate your recovery. Both of you have done well in recovering from last Friday, and I couldn't be happier.

"There's just one more thing that would make me even happier," Jason added.

"And that would be what?"

"The answer to the following question: when can we get out of here?" Jason smiled.

Everyone shared a laugh at that question, and that's when Jason knew everything was going to be all right. There was just one more thing to do, but that can wait. Now, he can just be happy that things are finally going up.


	10. Chapter 9: Reminder

**CHAPTER 9: Reminder**

* * *

><p><em>Downs residence, Red Rock, Oklahoma – Sunday, May 22, 2011, 5:02 PM<em>

"Should I set the table now, Mom?" Jason asked.

"In a minute, Jason. Help me with the tuna casserole."

Jason quickly stepped to Mom's side and began opening the cans of cream of mushroom soup to mix into the pasta and tuna. Jason felt his stomach growl as he began to mix the ingredients together. "It's been too long since you made this, Mom…"

Susan had to smile at that. "Well, I'm glad you love it so much."

"If I didn't, I should be arrested," Jason replied with a smile of his own.

Susan looked back at the meal she was preparing. It had been just over a month since their lives changed forever on that fateful night in April. Jason and her husband, Patrick had been released later the next week. It was tough at first, having to rearrange the house a bit to make it wheelchair friendly, and her having to find a job to meet the bills. Thankfully, Grandma Denise had decided to move in and help out where she could, and also to take care of Bethany when Patrick got tired. Jason had returned to school and was surprised to see how much he was missed. Apparently, the story of his close shave with the tornado had spread like wildfire in the school, and his scar was a testament to it. Jason however was reluctant to talk about it, and usually tried to change the subject. Susan glanced at Jason, still looking over preparing the casserole, and espied the crimson-colored y-shaped scar that dominated the right side of his face. That scar will be an eternal reminder of the change that happened to the family.

The tornado was just one incident that changed the lives of the family forever; the second was the revelation that Jason was a mutant, and an exceptionally powerful one at that, so much that it attracted a madman. Ever since being released, Jason had tried to act as if everything was normal, but even he knew it wasn't. During the nights, he would often retreat to the basement and repeatedly transmute wooden blocks to random shapes, trying to get a grip on his powers. It had been difficult, as he had to try to avoid clapping his hands together, which apparently stimulated the energy needed for his power. As a result, Jason had taken up the habit of carrying around a stress ball or two to keep his hands busy. Just the same, washing his hands was a bit of a chore.

Jason got done with the mixing of the casserole. "Ok, where do we keep the pans?"

"They should be in the cupboard," Susan answered. "When did they say they were going to be here?"

"About five-thirty." Jason continued as he dug through the cupboard. "The Professor said he was bringing two of the others at the Institute as well. Oh, here we are." Jason pulled out a decent-sized baking platter. "I hope we made enough tuna casserole, because I'm going to want seconds."

"Jason, are you sure about this?"

Jason looked at his mother. This had been a repeated topic of discussion since they left the hospital, about whether Jason should go to the Institute or no. "I'm not sure about this at all, which is why we agreed to have them come over, remember?"

"It's not that…" Susan returned. "It's just…so much has happened right now, I'm not sure if I want you to go."

"Believe me, Mom. If I could stay here and learn, I'd be all for it." Jason said calmly. "And frankly, I'm still not sure if I should go. With Dad being in a wheelchair, I've been wondering if I should stay around and help him out. Of course, you know how Dad stands about this."

Susan nodded. Her husband was all for sending their son to the Institute, partly to learn as well as for protection for their son. Patrick didn't want Jason to leave either, but if Jason was hunted by someone else as bad as or even worse than this Magneto that went after him before, Jason just was not safe here from that. "I know…I'm just so worried about you. I don't like the fact you have such a power that terrible people want to use you to do terrible things."

"Neither do I. Magneto was bad enough." Jason started pouring the casserole into the pan. "Let's worry about that after supper and we have a chance to talk to the Professor, ok?"

Susan nodded again, right when the oven chimed that it was fully heated.

"And just in time!" Jason remarked. "How long does it need to bake?"

"Thirty minutes. Once you're done, clean yourself up. Where's your father?"

"I think he's in the living room, watching the TV…"

At that moment, Grandma Denise waltzed into the room, dressed in a flamboyant purple dress and a prominent red hat. "Well, I can't stay another minute, but Susan, there's a pecan pie in the fridge for dessert."

Jason's eyes widened at that. "Grandma, you're going to spoil me…"

"I'm your Grandma, sweetie. That's my job!" Picking up her purse from the table, she said, "I got to run, and I won't be back for a few hours. Bethany is in her room, so have a good night!"

Jason laughed. "Ok, Grandma. Have fun with whatever the Red Hats are doing this time!"

"Now you mind your business there, Jason, and don't let some stranger whisk you away before I had my say."

Jason smiled wryly. "I'll do my best…now shoo, you're going to be late!"

"Oh, good heavens you're right! Bye now!" With that, Denise took off out of the kitchen.

Jason sighed. "I never seen so much purple in one place before…"

"It only gets worse, Jason…"

"Don't say that." Jason placed the casserole in the oven and set the timer. "Thirty minutes…should be just about right then…"

* * *

><p><em>Forty minutes later…<em>

While the Downs family was waiting for their guests patiently, the Professor drove through the small streets of Red Rock, Oklahoma quietly. In the car with him were Jean and Piotr, both having come with him to the Downs house to once again offer a position at the Institute to Jason. Earlier the previous week, they had received a call from Jason himself, requesting a time they could come to the house and talk to him and his parents more about joining the Institute. The Professor was well pleased at hearing this, and had set up a time. He also chose Jean and Piotr to come with him to talk to the family, considering that Jason had familiarity with both of them.

"It's such a quiet town…" Jean said, as she looked at the houses roll on by.

"Indeed, very peaceful," the Professor said. "Piotr, are you all right?"

Piotr looked up, not expecting his name to be called. "Yes, sir…"

"You've been very quiet, Peter…" Jean said. "Something on your mind?"

"_Da_…" Piotr said. "I was still thinking about what we saw on the highway outside of town."

Jean managed a glance at the Professor. They had taken Highway 15 into town, the same highway Jason and his father had met fate in the form of a terrible tornado that nearly killed both of them. Nowadays, the highway had been cleaned up, and aside from some torn apart trees, you wouldn't think a tornado passed by. As they passed, all of them felt some kind of ominous feeling as they did, but no one talked about it at the time.

"Sometimes such a disaster leaves that kind of scar in the land for some time, no matter who cleans it up. Most don't even notice, but to those who know the story…we feel it as if we came across the scene the day after it passed through."

Piotr had to concede that.

"But it isn't healthy to dwell on the past, Piotr. The past is only there to remember and to learn from, not to live in. We must learn from the past, and use its lessons to shape the future from where we stand in the present. Wouldn't you agree?"

Piotr felt that cut straight to his heart. The Professor's word carried a deeper meaning that meant more to Piotr than anyone else in the vehicle. Jason had said something quite similar in more words over a month ago, and that conversation had changed Piotr forever. He had meant to discuss his past with the Professor, but he hadn't gotten around to it yet. He was still struggling with his own self-doubt, but he was working on it. Soon enough, he would talk to the Professor about it.

Jean spoke up; unaware of what went through Piotr's mind at that moment. "Isn't that the house?"

The Professor looked to see where Jean was looking. "Yes, that's it."

Piotr sighed nervously.

"You all right, Peter?" Jean asked.

"I will be. I just don't want to mess this up…"

Jean laughed. "I know the feeling. Don't worry, you'll be fine."

Piotr started to blush. "Thank you, Jean…"

At that time, the Professor pulled the car out into the driveway that led to the Downs' house. Jean stepped out first, and noticed something right away. "Isn't that tuna casserole I smell?"

Piotr stepped out, and immediately noticed the aroma. "It is…wonderful…"

The Professor had noticed the smell as well. "I didn't expect they would make us dinner. Now Piotr, can you help me with my chair?"

Immediately, Piotr went for the rear of the vehicle and opened the door, finding a wheelchair folded inside. They had left his trusted electric wheelchair at the mansion, as it was a pain in the neck to move in vehicles, minus the X-Van. In due process, the Professor led the way towards the front door, where a ramp had been prepared, laid over steps that used to be there. The Professor noticed the ramp with a touch of sadness, knowing that it was meant for Patrick Downs, the loving father of Jason that lost his ability to walk in the tornado, and with that in mind ascended the step. The others followed in silence. Upon reaching the porch, Jean knocked softly on the door. Very quickly, the door opened up to show Jason, looking a far sight better than how they first met, although he had to sport the buzzcut for a while until his hair grew out evenly.

Jason looked delighted to see them. "Hey, you made it!"

"Was there any doubt?" the Professor said with a smile.

"Not from me, anyway. Come on in! The casserole is not quite ready yet, but it will be. I was just setting up the table."

As they all entered, the Professor asked. "How have you been, Jason?"

"Pretty good, considering. Come on into the living room. My dad is already there, you can talk to him while I help Mom with the food…"

With that, Jason took off for the kitchen, while the three found Patrick watching the news. He looked up to see the Professor, Piotr and a red-haired girl he didn't know come in. "Hello, you must be Professor Xavier."

The Professor nodded. "I am indeed. Thank you for allowing us to visit your lovely home."

"We try…" Patrick smiled, rotating his chair around to face the Professor. "I already know Piotr there. How are you doing?"

Piotr had an inkling that Patrick was really asking how he had been since their last talk. "Very good, sir."

Patrick smiled pleasantly. "Glad to hear it." He then looked at Jean. "And I don't believe we met, Miss…"

"Jean, Jean Grey. I first talked to your son while you were still in a coma at the hospital."

Patrick's face reflected that recollection. "Oh yes, Jason mentioned you. Thank you for coming!"

"Thank you for having us…"

"Why don't we head to the dining room? Dinner should be done soon…"

"I have to say that I'm sorry to inconvenience you for dinner, Mr. Downs," the Professor said.

"It's no problem, and please, call me Patrick."

A few minutes later, all of them had gathered around the dinner table, and just in time too; Jason brought out a steaming platter of tuna casserole. "And here we are!" He looked back at the kitchen. "Mom, I don't think they will care too much about what you look like right now. You look fine!"

"Give me a few moments to freshen up, and I'll be right out!"

Jason placed the casserole at the table. "Mom, it's just the Professor, not Jean-Luc Picard!"

"I said a few minutes!"

"Ok, fine!" Jason whispered under his breath. "Pre-Madonna…"

"Jason…" Patrick warned. "That's no way to speak about your mother."

"Sorry…"

"Why don't you get your sister for dinner?"

Jason wordlessly got up and left the room down a nearby hallway.

Patrick addressed the Professor. "I must apologize. My wife gets like this when we have company…"

"Perfectly natural…" the Professor said graciously.

Eventually, Susan joined them for dinner—as well as Jason and Bethany—and it didn't take long afterwards for the group there to dig in. Needless to say, the tuna casserole was well received by their guests, and Jason made sure to get helpings as soon as he could. Bethany, who was normally chatty around the table, kept quiet. Her shyness around strangers got the better of her, but she managed to stay at the table, and only snuck glances at the three strangers when she was sure they weren't looking or speaking to her.

Dinner was over before anyone wanted to be, but with it came the reason why they all gathered tonight. All of them filed into the room, while Jason said goodbye to Bethany. "Hey, Bethany, you want to play in the room for a while?"

"Aww, can I play with you?"

"Maybe later, but right now I have some grown-up talk to do with my new friends…"

Bethany blinked twice before answering. "Does that mean you're talking about dirty stuff?"

Jason had to will himself to not burst out laughing and instead condense it into a chuckle. "No-no, not THAT grown-up talk. We have to talk about something that's got to do with the cool thing I can do."

Bethany widened her eyes. "Oh, you mean your magic!"

Jason had to smile; Bethany was far too young to understand the difference between alchemy and magic. "Yeah, in a sense. Now, we'll play later. Be good, okay!"

"Ok, but promise you won't talk about anything dirty."

"Oh, we won't, but I promise."

They shared a quick embrace, and Bethany took off for the room. By the time Jason joined his parents and the X-Men that came, they had already sat down. To that, Jason joked, "I feel like this is an intervention."

Patrick slapped his leg. "And I forgot to write my letter too…"

The Professor smiled at that, while Jean merely coughed to hide a laugh. "Well, rest assured, I hope this meeting will not be nearly so dramatic."

Jason shrugged, and sat down in a loan chair adjacent Piotr and his own father.

The Professor clasped his hands together in front of him, and looked briefly at Susan. "As you already well know, I run an Institute for Gifted Children in New York. That's at least the face of the Institute, although it is partly true. I opened up my family home to house and protect children that exhibited unusual talents, such as your son here.

"I as well as an associate saw the increasing number of men and women that would develop an active X-Gene, and we knew once that happened, people that did not have the gene would like shun or even persecute those with such gifts. As a result, I opened up my home to become the Xavier Institute for Gifted Children, and thus I began searching for girls and boys who were gifted…just like myself."

Patrick and Susan looked surprised at that revelation, while Jason didn't react. He had already "met" the Professor through a telepathic conversation he had with Jean back at the hospital. However, Jason did make a remark. "Makes sense; what better suited to run a school for mutants than a mutant?"

"Professor, if you would be so kind…" Susan interrupted. "How did you find my son to begin with? You told me that you received a phone call from someone who saw Jason at the science fair…"

"Yes…and I apologize for that. You must understand why I must err on the side of caution. Since we were not in a private area where I could discuss the real nature of the Institute. While most are suspicions that there are mutants in this country, there has not been any real revelation as of yet, and we're trying to keep it that way."

"That makes sense, but what does that have to do with how you found me in the first place?"

Jean answered. "Cerebro."

"Cereb-what?" Jason half-repeated.

"It is a computer that works with my telepathy," the Professor explained. "But on its own, it can discover any manifestation of a new mutant signature in the United States, as well as some of our neighbors."

Silence reigned for a brief moment, but Jason said it for them all. "Whoa…"

"When your power manifested, Jason," the Professor explained. "Cerebro detected it right away, and even let me know the dire situation you were in at the time, down to your vitals."

"Ok, that's a bit creepy…" Jason said sheepishly.

Jean chuckled. "It seems like it sometimes, but Cerebro has been very useful for finding mutants either in relative safety, or in great danger."

"And with that information," the Professor continued. "We can act accordingly."

Patrick spoke up. "That explains how you found my son, but if I recall correctly, you came down his bedside literally the day after. How did you get down here so fast?"

The Professor smiled. "It's pretty easy if you own your own jet…"

Jason's mouth formed an "o," while Patrick merely said. "I guess that makes sense…"

Jean could only smile knowingly. The three of them here knew that it was more than just a simple jet.

"Jean here was one of my first students to enter my care, but others followed. Piotr here is one of my more recent students."

Piotr noticed that Jason and his father shared a quick knowing glance. The Professor did not need to say just how he joined for these two already knew. However, Piotr had to wonder if the Professor knew that they knew. He seemed to make no indication he did.

Susan finally asked. "If Jason would ever go to this Institute, how will he receive his education?"

"Quite simple:" the Professor answered. "His normal curricular studies will be held at the nearest secondary institution, namely Bayville High School, located less than a mile from the Institute. At the Institute itself, we train our students on the how to control and use their powers properly. Depending on the power that student exhibits, we continually work with them to help understand their powers even beyond the high school level if necessary."

"How any different powers can this…X-Gene…create?" Susan asked.

"It's always different within each mutant, so it is impossible to determine just how an X-Gene will manifest, but there is a theory that there is a genetic trend, where children of a mutant may share the power of its parent or parents. Many powers aren't unique, such as teleportation, telekinesis or telepathy. There are varying degrees of those as well."

Patrick asked next. "So, are there others that have this…alchemy that Jason has?"

"From what I have observed, no. Jason's alchemy seems to be unique only to him. I have talked to an associate of mine who is well-versed in such arts and he has stated that no one has the same alchemic skill Jason has. While alchemy could be studied by anyone, Jason's mutant ability gives him an advantage over any other alchemist."

Jason wasn't sure what to feel about that, but he found himself looking at his hands, twitching slightly as the energy crackled through them. While it didn't hurt so much anymore, clapping his hands together caused them to burn.

"If Jason is so unique," Susan said. "Wouldn't that make him hard to teach?"

"Partially," the Professor answered. "While we may not be able to teach him the intricacies of alchemy itself, we can teach him how to use that power and to keep it under control. My aforementioned associate can help with what we lack the means to teach Jason."

"How does this training work?"

"We have training sessions several times during the week," Jean explained. "Most of the time, these are team-based, while others may be individual."

"Jean is correct," the Professor continued. "For new students, there are preliminaries to gauge their abilities, and then they incorporate themselves into the rest of the training. Ever several months we gauge their training again to see how far they have gone. Ideally, we try to find out students when they are at the age of fifteen, but we won't dismiss Jason as he is older. Piotr here was seventeen when he joined us."

Jason had to smile. "Sounds like it can be rough."

"I won't lie, Jason," the Professor said seriously. "Training to become proficient at one's own gifts is always challenging. You may feel at times you want to give up, but if you pull through, you will become stronger than you have ever imagined. After all, steel must be forged through fire to become strong."

Jason nodded understandingly.

Patrick looked at his son. "Jason does have some…health factors we need to be aware of, and you might already be aware of."

The Professor looked down briefly. He was speaking of the probability that Jason would develop Charcot's Syndrome as a result of the brain trauma he had endured. "Yes, and we will take that into consideration. As these are my students, given to me under the trust of their parents, it is my responsibility to see that they get what they need, including medical assistance."

Jason looked around the room and pursed his lips. Unconsciously squeezing his stress ball in his right hand, he let everything he heard tumble around in his head. Deep down he wanted to go, but there was a lot of anxiety at the surface that he needed to chip away first. "Well…it sounds great…it really does…"

The Professor headed him off. "But…"

Jason looked down. "I'm just not sure if it's the best decision."

Patrick looked at his son. He had expected this kind of answer, but remained silent.

"What the matter?" Jean asked.

"I really haven't quite come to terms with this…" Jason was hesitant to call it a gift. "…thing I have. It's been a month now, and I still wonder why I got it. Sometimes the burning in my hands is so bad that I nearly lose it. Some days I wish I could have been…" Jason was about to say normal, but he halted in consideration of the company he was in. "…I wish I could have not been different."

The Professor didn't answer, but he understood this feeling. "You feel lonely in this home, do you not?"

Jason blanched at that, then his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Are you reading my mind again?" Jason asked accusingly.

"Jason…" Patrick began.

"It's all right, Mr. Downs." To Jason, he answered. "No, I did not…but I understand that pain you have. All of my students have endured that kind of heartache. Despite the wonderful gift you have, you feel so alone even among your own family that you don't know how to deal with it."

Patrick and Susan looked at their son, who flinched under their gaze. Patrick said, "Jason? Is that true?"

Jason had to sigh. "Yeah…he's right."

It was Patrick turn to sigh. "Jason, why didn't you say anything?"

"What could I say? That I feel like I didn't belong in the family anymore?" Jason ran his hand through his buzzed-down hair. "It was so much easier to know I was adopted, but this…this is a whole different thing."

"You were adopted?" Piotr asked.

Jason looked at Piotr. "Yeah, I was. I found out when I was twelve, before Mom and Dad told me." Jason smiled, but that smile seemed to contradict what he was feeling. "Figures, doesn't it? I was too scared to ask my parents back then, I was too scared to tell my Dad I was a mutant in the hospital, and now I'm too scared to confide in them that I felt out of place ever since then!" Jason rubbed his face with his hands. "I feel like a complete idiot."

Patrick looked disappointed in Jason. "Jason, you know you can always talk to us…"

"I know that…" Jason replied. "It's just this…is so beyond my league or yours. What would you have said?"

"You can't know that, Jason, and you never know until you ask," Susan said.

Jason looked down. "Yeah…I just…" Jason shook his head suddenly, as if he didn't believe what he said himself. "I don't know."

Piotr looked saddened as he listened to Jason. His own family was quick to notice he had a mutation, which manifested when he saved his little sister from being run over by a combine.

The Professor looked understanding. "You hide even among your own family, reluctant to talk about it. You feel torn two ways: in one direction you feel like you want to find other mutants that can identify with you, but in the other direction, you wish you didn't have your gift and be like your family. You feel like you are part of a whole new world, and your terrified to explore it because you feel like you would do it alone."

Jason didn't answer right away, but finally nodded. "Yeah."

The Professor then changed his tone. "Jason…you are never alone."

That hit Jason where he didn't expect, causing him to look up.

The Professor continued. "You thought my analysis of your fears was from my reading of your mind, but this is something I've seen before. Many mutants feel the same way, even if they are accepted by their family. And it's not limited to X-Gene mutations either. Often people feel they don't belong, even amongst their peers, so they attempt to find solace in solitude, yet they find themselves wanting more than that, and yet they find themselves afraid to search. It's a terrible cycle, and can only be broken when they find someone to confide in, and if not their own parents, then they need to find someone else.

"That's partly why I established my Institute, to offer mutants a place to live among those who experienced what you are experiencing. No one should ever have to shoulder their worries alone. That's why you should confide in your family, Jason. Your parents are there to support you through tough times, and are always there to help you. To be frank, Jason, the way your parents accept you along with your mutant abilities, you have it better than most mutants anywhere in the world. You should be proud of your parents."

A grin broke out on Jason's face. "I…well…I don't know what to say!"

"Sometimes all we need is a little reminder." The Professor turned to face Jason's parents. "And I should be thanking you."

Patrick looked at the Professor strangely, while Susan gave voice to the question that was on her husband's mind, "What do you mean?"

"You are a model to what many of my students and mutants worldwide can only dream they have. Many young mutants are often subject to being rejected by their families. Many run away, and I shudder to think how many have ended their lives themselves because they couldn't find acceptance. It's hard seeing families broken because children are born different, and it's gratifying to see families like yours exist, supporting those among them blessed with such gifts. For that, you have my utmost gratitude."

Jason dared to look at his parents, and found both were completely speechless. And why shouldn't they be? They were just given one of the most heartfelt compliments anyone could ask for. But the Professor was right, and not just here. He should be proud of his parents, but just like when he was twelve-years-old, he couldn't even ask his parents about him being a mutant, even though they knew. He saw his mother tear up slightly, and his father put an arm on her shoulder to comfort her. He was touched deeply as well.

"Gee, Professor…that was…something else…" Jason finally said.

"We offer a place for you at the Institute, Jason; a place where you can be with people who have felt the same feelings as you have, and were you can learn your place in the world with your gifts. We will help you anyway we can."

Jason looked at his parents, and his father looked at him with support. "It is your decision, son. We will support you whatever you do."

"I want to know what you think first, Mom and Dad. This involves all of us…" Jason replied.

Patrick looked at Susan, who answered. "As much as I would love for you to stay home, Jason, I think that going with the Professor is the best we can do for you now. After what that Magneto did to you, and wanted to do to us, you should go where you are safe."

Patrick picked up from there. "I want you to go as well, son. Through chance or whatever you want to call it, you got this amazing ability, and these people are offering to help you use it for good. We can't help you with that here, but they can. You should go, son. We will miss you…but we know you will do us proud."

Now it was Jason's turn to tear up. His parents were behind him one-hundred percent. For a quick moment his brain froze as his mind mired through the support he was getting. Taking a few breaths, he finally said, "Okay…I'll go…"

With that, Piotr looked really happy upon hearing that acceptance. Jean sighed in relief; it had been a tough battle for Jason, but he was now making the right decision. The Professor looked delighted. It had been a close one for this boy, but it seems that their care and patience had paid off.

Jason raised a hand. "I just have one request, if that's all right."

The Professor replied, "Name it."

"Is it all right…if I can at least stay the rest of the summer here. This is going to be quite the transition going from here to the Institute, and I'd like to give myself and my family all the time we can have. Please?"

The Professor smiled at this. "Of course, Jason. Jean?"

Jean reached into her pocket and pulled out a stick-like device. "Here, Jason, we want you to have this until you come to the Institute. With it, you can reach us at any time…" Jean let go of it, and it left her hand and floated towards Jason.

Jason wordlessly took it out of the air, and looked it over. "Heh, fashionable."

"We all have one…" Piotr said.

"If you ever in trouble or need to talk to us for any reason, this communicator will get you through to us."

Jason smiled, taking a firm hold of the communicator. "Thanks."

The Professor turned serious. "Now, Jason, you have a responsibility during these next few months. You cannot discuss your new-found power with anyone outside your family. While there is unsettlement in this country because of the possibility of the presence of mutants, none have been revealed. This country is not ready to accept us as equals, and so we must stay in the shadows for now. Do you understand what this means, Jason?"

Jason said automatically. "No talking or doing anything with my powers in the open."

The Professor's brow deepened. "I mean it, Jason…"

"I understand…" Jason raised his hands defensively. "I'm just…annoyed. You'd think after two-hundred years of this, we'd finally get the picture."

"Indeed," the Professor agreed. "But unfortunately, humanity's legacy is laced with prejudice and oppression over differences. To avoid this, we must stay out of sight for now. Maybe one day, we can all walk safely under the sun without being hated or despised, but that day has not come for us yet."

Jason finally said resignedly. "Yeah…"

"I understand it's frustrating, for both you and your parents, but I cannot stress enough the importance of secrecy for mutants. Anonymity is our best protection right now, and it is imperative that we stay out of sight of those who would seek to destroy us."

"Is there someone crazy enough to do that?" Susan said, paling.

"There always is…" Jason said morbidly.

"Quite, and we don't know the faces of those who will seek us out aggressively, so therefore we must stay hidden. Do you understand?"

"I do now…" Jason said, smiling nervously.

"You don't think these kinds of people would outright attack a school, would you?" Patrick questioned.

"Terrorists hijacked airliners to crash into bustling skyscrapers, Mr. Downs. I do not expect ant-mutant extremists to not do anything less."

Needless to say, this did not settle well with the Downs family.

"However, to do so would expose them to the world as it would do the same to us. Also, they are aware that mutant sympathy, or so they call it, is large enough for them to be hesitant. As they need to be secret, so must we." The Professor looked sympathetic at Jason. "I will not lie; we live in a time and age that being a mutant is a mix of a blessing and a curse; include the pressure from without, and life as a mutant will be difficult and complicated." Then his gaze hardened. "Yet we as mutants are called to shoulder that burden like men, and be a part of this world and of the beings that inhabit it for eons to come. Jason, you have been blessed with the gift of alchemy, and your position in this world can only be filled by you. We will help you find that position, not to dominate, but to join the world together as one people. That's what the Institute can give you."

Jason was completely speechless at hearing that impassioned speech at first, and had to breathe before speaking. "Way to play hardball…"

"We all have a place in this world, Jason…" Jean said. "And it's our responsibility to find what it is, but it's not just about finding what it is; it's also about the journey to get there."

Jason smirked at that. "That's almost cheesy enough to be on a fortune cookie…"

"Yet sometimes it takes a scrap of paper inside a pastry to tell us a piece of wisdom we have ever seen before. Am I right?"

Jason remembered a fortune cookie he once read: "_A journey of one-thousand miles begins with a single step_." Well, here was at the start of his own journey. He had taken the first step in accepting the invitation to the Institute; time to take another step.

"You're right, and I still want to come to the Institute." Jason looked at his hands, twitching still. "I want to master this power, to control it…and to learn from it."

The Professor smiled. "As shall we all…"

* * *

><p><em>The same day, 8:16 PM<em>

Jason leaned against the picket fence on the west side of the yard, fingering the communicator he received from Jean a mere few hours before. After Jason's initial acceptance to go to the Institute, the conversation went on for a few more questions, but the visitors from the X-Men decided to make their goodbyes to them and left, leaving the family alone. After cleaning up the table, Jason made his way outside to think about what he just committed to. He guessed he had less than three months to be with the family now, and he still couldn't believe it.

Just two months ago, he was your average honor-roll student at your average Midwest high school. Now, he was proclaimed by friend and foe to be one of the most powerful beings to walk the earth or soon to be, and here he was, standing in the backyard like your average honor-roll student. It was completely ridiculous…yet apparently it was true. He didn't fully understand his power now, but he'd taken his first few steps to learning. He couldn't help but wonder how the Professor would teach him the specifics of alchemy, but he imagined he was resourceful to find a way.

Before the X-Men had gone, he managed to catch Piotr and catch up with him. Jason could also see that he seemed to be generally happier, more so that he seemed to stand taller than Jason could ever remember. He had meant to talk to the Professor to ask about him, but forgot. He would have to find out when he arrived in August.

He could only imagine what he needed to do now. There was the transfer details from the school, all the legal papers that needed to be signed along with his medical records—and that was going to require some explanation at the new clinic he felt—and not to mention the emotions that will come with it. Before he never saw himself leaving the family until he was off to some nearby state college, but even then he'd come back to visit for the weekends and holidays. This was not the case here. Going to the Institute was something else. He wondered if he could even see his parents once or twice per year while at the Institute. What about the summer?

Jason rubbed his head, grimacing as a wash of ache bathed his brain like hot water. There he went again. Too much worry made his head hurt, and his doctors warned him about stress level, particularly because of his trauma. He was going to have to be more careful from now on. He just had to approach everything one ahead of the other. Thankfully, he asked for three months to do it.

Waiting for his headache to die, he thought about other things. He wondered what the Institute would be like, or this Bayville High School. Jean had said that it was a good school, and had a lot to do. That interested him, as he was always looking for something extracurricular to do. He once looked at a year or a semester in vocal while he was still attending the high school here. Or maybe he could warm up his gymnastics again. Those might come in handy during the training he heard about. Hard to say…

"Jason!"

Jason looked at the house to see his mother calling for him through the kitchen window. "What is it?" he called back.

"There's still some tuna casserole in the kitchen if you want some still!"

"Sure, I'll be right there!"

Jason nearly turned for the kitchen there and then, but something held him back. He looked out to the west as the sun lowered in the west in its reddish gaze and coloring the clouds purple, he wondered what the next day would bring, and soon enough the coming months. There was much to do, but he felt like everything will be all right. He turned towards the kitchen, relaxed for the first time in a long time. "Well…this has been an informative day for the new recruit," he said aloud to himself. "Guess all I have to do now is enjoy the ride. But first things first: I really want some tuna casserole…"

Jason strolled towards the back door of the house as the sun shed its last rays on the quiet hills of Oklahoma, but it would rise again to give Jason another day to ponder what will come, and what adventures now await for him.

But for now, night greets the weary recruit—as well as a scrumptious second meal.

**THE END**

* * *

><p><em>Whew, now THAT was an adventure for me. Sure, it was unlike most X-Men works with action, but it seemed that having this as a drama more than an action seemed appropriate. This was quite an interesting seven months for me to write this. I would have finished sooner, honest, but with moving, a busy job and some health-related issues, I had to take a few weeks off a time or two to let my brain catch up. <em>

_Now a little bit of response time:_

_I've received a lot of comments by an anonymous user called "ibnuub," so I'll answer the best I can since I couldn't directly respond._

"_**I love the crossover with FMA."**_

_Hehe, yeah. While this is not a crossover with Fullmetal Alchemist, it is VERY obvious that I was strongly inspired by that beloved manga. Most of the alchemic junk I'll find for later stuff will be fruit of my own research, I assure you. Like Edward Elric and the others in that manga, Jason too will find themselves tested in places they didn't think they needed to be tested in, but adversity shows the worst and the best in all of us, so it must be so. There won't be any homunculi in this, as we already have regenerative abilities in several characters already. If there are any homunculi at all, it will be my own reiteration. [looks cautiously at his Sonic fanfiction as a pair of venom-yellow eyes look at him.]_

"_**Just **__**one **__**question. **__**Will **__**this **__**be **__**a **__**yaoi **__**fic.**__**PLEASE **__**SAY **__**NO!**__**"**_

_[sigh.] I'm going to have to be blunt here. You're reading an X-Men fanfic. What are the X-Men fighting for? To be treated just like everyone else. What do gays and lesbians want? Equality, just like the X-Men. A lot of parallels can be drawn between the X-Men, the LGBT agenda, the Civil Rights movement and other such things, because that's what the X-Men are for: to paint a picture for us to show what ignorance and hatred for those who aren't that different from us at all feel. _

_Now I don't believe in writing pornographic content in works, because the pleasures of sex I find are best left un-described and imagined. We as authors give you a setting, and your imaginations should play the rest. After all, telling a play-by-play can be lethally boring…and in this case…a bit disgusting. More so, doesn't allow the posting of such material. No yaoi here. Now, if done tastefully, gay relationships can be just as interesting as straight ones to read. Now, if that doesn't strike your fancy, then don't read it._

_Moreover still, the X-Men as well as several other leading comic book heroes have gay relationships within. One of the most famous is the X-Men Northstar. If you are unfamiliar with him, you should look him up and see who he is. Check out Wikipedia and look up LGBT themes in comic books. You might be surprised whose names appear on there._

_Whether Jason is gay or no is really out of the question. This story and the ones to follow are about his journey to find out who he is and what his place in the world is. Should love come his way, it shouldn't matter if it's a man or a woman. Why? Because both are people. If Jason finds love, it will be with a person, not a body._

"_**Will Jason be able to perform many types of Alchemy?"**_

_Alchemy is insanely broad, and once Jason learns more, he'll be able to do more. Simple as that really. Jason may find himself doing some interesting…and scary things in the future. _

_And that's it for now! Here's a small premise of what's coming next:_

"_Jason is now attending the Xavier Institute of Gifted Children, along with several new arrivals: the New Mutants. With the population of the Institute doubled, order is a little hard to come by. As Jason goes to school, he finds himself the target of the Brotherhood, particularly a speed demon with ties to someone Jason would sooner want to forget. _

_Meanwhile, old grudges die hard as another figure from Jason's past continues to haunt the Institute, and Jason will find himself involved in the many problems that the other members of the Institute have long-since buried._

_How will Jason stand this brave new world? And just how does a Broadway musical become too darn hot? Stay tuned for __X-Men Forged: To Be Human__."_

_See you then!_


End file.
